My Father's Shadow
by fictionfrek101
Summary: It was hard enough for Javert to raise a son on his own, but now that he's leading a revolution under the name of Enjolras and running around with a gamine named Éponine, he must decide what's more important, justice or a son's love? Yes there is E/É and some Javert/OC, but neither of these are the main point of the story. Thanks to waves-bolts from tumblr for the cover art!
1. 1809 - Wishing on Stars

So here it finally is, after all the promotion on tumblr, I finally present to you _My Father's Shadow_ a story of fathers, sons, stars, and love. This first chapter has no Enjolras in it, and I'm sorry about that, but I felt the need to show where Javert comes from, how he got his family, and what he has to go back to if he loses that. I hope you enjoy, and for further information and news for _My Father's Shadow _please visit the tumblr account of happinessiveneverknown, or the "My Father's Shadow" tag on tumblr for all your up-to-date information on the developments happening.

**Ownership Disclaimer: fictionfrek101/happinessiveneverknown does not own the book **_**Les Miserables**_**, nor any characters/events/songs/other content used provided by the many adaptations of the novel, including, but not limited to, the 1980 French musical, the 2012 film adaptation of said musical, the 25th anniversary concert of said musical, and the 1998 movie adaptation.**

**Historical Accuracy Disclaimer: I do not live, nor do I claim to live in 1800s France, as for my knowledge of the French language, it is very limited. Most of my descriptions come from the source novel, research from the internet and creative decisions. The author will do their best to make it as accurate as possible, but the reader must be flexible in their judgement of this endeavour.**

**Appearance Disclaimer: All characters that appear in the 2012 adaptation look as the actors playing them do (e.g. Aaron Tveit is Enjolras, Russell Crowe is Javert, Hugh Jackman is Jean Valjean, etc.). Any exceptions will be stated in the author's notes section of the chapter of their introduction. As for the important original character of Adelaide, wife of Javert and mother of Enjolras, she is based on Jennifer Connelly's role in the movie **_**A Beautiful Mind**_**, as is 1809 Javert to resemble Russell Crowe in the same movie. I own none of these fabulous actors and actresses, or their likenesses. **

* * *

My Father's Shadow

Chapter One

Wishing on Stars

Our story begins many years before the character of Enjolras, leader of the Les Amis de l'ABC, comes into the world, yet not so many before the birth of the son of Inspector Javert. In this time the Inspector had yet to gain this title, being merely Gabriel Javert, assistant guard in the Bagne of Toulon, and it is there we begin our story.

The year was 1809 A.D. and Napoleon Bonaparte was Emperor of the French, ruling over the First French Empire. None of this information is particularly relevant to our story; however the author chooses to mention these facts as to better set the scene.

We follow, not Javert, but rather a young woman who had long, curly, dark brown hair, green eyes, a pale complexion, and went by the name of Mademoiselle Adelaide Enjolras. It is in these details the reader has no doubt surmised Adelaide's destiny to wed the future Inspector and bear him a son. At this point in time, Adelaide was of her twenty-third year and desired for a wife by many a man. Adelaide was by no means an overly picky or a pretentious being, she was waiting for no idealized Adonis on a white horse to sweep her off her feet and carry her off into the sunset. She just wished for one thing; a man who could make her smile, and carry a conversation.

And it seemed that the town of Toulon carried none in stock.

In all fairness, she did live toward the edge of town, not far enough from the prison to ignore the constant broken sounds of the prisoners, but not close enough to be in danger. That particular end of town was made up mostly of the prison guards and their families; she herself was the daughter of the town's Chief Inspector, making her that much more coveted to wed. But prison guards in Toulon were a gruff bunch of characters, and it was hard for a young girl to tell the difference between a man who gave off a sense of danger, and a man who could cause legitimate harm to her person.

Still, Adelaide hoped. She'd introduce herself to citizens' visiting relatives at weddings, and knew that there were many men in Toulon who she had not yet met. When she gave her mind an opportunity to wander, such as trips to market, and formal dinners, she'd often consider who might be her future husband. Who knew? Maybe she'd find him in Nice, or Paris, or even England or Spain.

She was on such a trip to the market on the day our story starts. Humming to herself as she picked out the ripest of apples, and charmed shopkeepers into lower prices, she pictured suitors.

Adelaide was not too concerned with looks, though in all fairness, she might have done a double take at a man with a third eye. Her husband could be young or old, it didn't matter. She just wanted a strong, sturdy man; one who would guard her, protect her, and provide for her. Adelaide was more than comfortable with becoming a happy housewife, making beds and rearing children, but if her husband thought she would just sit pretty, he had another thing coming.

Being an only child due to her mother passing away while giving birth to Adelaide, and her father never remarrying, Adelaide had been subject to _interesting _methods of childrearing by her father. More often than not, Adelaide was just handed a book and told to read in the corner of her father's office until it was time for them to go home. As such, by age twenty three, Adelaide was a well read, well learned, young woman, and ergo the candidate pool of appropriate suitors was well cut down as everyone knows it's hard to court someone who has no knowledge or interest in your conversational topics of choice.

"Merci, Monsieur," Adelaide nodded to the shopkeeper and dropping a few francs into his outstretched palm.

She resumed her humming as she looked down, fitting her purchases into the basket upon her arm, and fixing her purse back on her belt. Adelaide had been to the market so many times that she did not feel the need to look at her surroundings. As for the people in her way, they passed to the side, making way for the girl whether it was because they recognized her to be the Inspector's daughter, or because they were being gentlemanly to a pretty girl, not that she took notice of it. On this particular day, her coin purse and belt seemed to be simply incompatible, refusing to join as one. And it was this struggle for incompatibility that caused her to forgo the one most important rule for not paying attention to where you're going: look up when taking corners.

She smacked into something hard and sturdy.

Unintentionally dropping her possessions, the groceries and coin purse went crashing to the ground, with Adelaide sure to follow. But before she could crack her head against the stone walkway, she felt a grip on her forearm, followed by a swift hand to her back, steadying her, and keeping her upright.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle, I did not see you," a strange, gruff, voice said as Adelaide attempted the clear the stars from her vision. The sudden shocks of hitting something, almost falling, and the jolt of her rescue had left her reeling.

"C'est bien," she assured him steadying herself. "I didn't see you either."

The man respectfully released his grip on the strange girl, and Adelaide was finally able to take a look at the man who was both inadvertently attacker and rescuer. It was a slight shock to find that she knew him.

Sandy blonde hair, that had only just begun to get flecked with grey, steeled blue eyes, and lightly bearded, this was the form of Gabriel Javert upon his twenty-ninth year. By this age he had already developed his strong and straight posture, as well as his affinity for blue, which he now wore. Yet the hardened exterior he would become famous for, had not yet fortified itself enough to give off the threat it would one day, and in fact, it was so unnoticeable that he looked down right… approachable.

Adelaide and Javert were nowhere near friends, but it was not through some fault or discord among them. It was simply from having only briefly passed each other a handful of times that allowed them to identify their companion on that day, but not enough to really know how to interact. The daughter of the Chief Inspector barely ran in the same circles as the assistant guard, having limited their interactions to mere nods in the market, or a respectful hand kiss upon introduction at a party. Yet every time Adelaide had interacted with the man, she had noted he only acted with utmost propriety and manners, a hard quality to find among the men of Toulon.

"Here, let me help you," Javert bent down a picked up one of the apples scattered along the ground.

"Merci," Adelaide smiled as she crouched down with him. They swiftly gathered the scattered possessions from the street, and Adelaide was only all too glad she lived in Toulon and not some place like Paris, where the lost coins and food would have been scooped up by gamins before she could even bend down.

As Javert placed the scattered coins back into her purse, Adelaide's eye caught a strange object. It was a small white and blue bound book lying face down on the pavement. Though it looked rather new, a few of the page corner tops had been folded down, and there was a prominent mud stain on the formerly white canvas, no doubt from the fall onto the street. Crude sketches of various dots connected by lines adorned the cover, and written on the front in big black letters was the title _L'art dies Cieux_.

Picking it up, Adelaide looked at the page it had fallen open to when it hit the ground. A diagram of what appeared to be dots connected together with lines to form a bear, decorated the right-hand page. Text was laid around the picture and made up almost the entirety of the left-hand page. It described some story involving nymphs, Gods, bears and a hunter, and the words "Grande Ourse" stood tall on the top left corner of the left-hand page.

"I think that should be all of it," Javert looked up at the Inspector's daughter. He started when he noticed the book in her hands, "Oh, that- that's mine."

"Oh, pardon," Adelaide nodded, and handed the book to him, which he promptly tucked into his jacket.

"Again, I'm terribly sorry for inconveniencing you," Javert watched as she fumbled with her coin purse once more. He couldn't help but feel eyes on them, and rightly so, it wasn't proper for the Inspector's daughter to be on the ground with the son of… Well, with him. "I hope I caused you no physical harm?"

"Nope, everything's in working order. There we go!" she laughed, finally snapping the purse in place. "Merci for your help though, not many would stop to help after causing such a mess."

"Then the standards of manners have really gone down in Toulon. Allow me?" Javert asked, offering his hand.

Adelaide smiled, took his extended hand and allowed the Assistant Guard to pull her up. His hand was rough, but strong, much like the rest of him, and Adelaide could fell an impressive power at work as he pulled her up. After letting go of his hand, they stood there for a second awkwardly brushing the street dust from their clothes, not quite sure what to do next.

"Well, I should be heading home," Adelaide finally broke the ice. "Pére is waiting."

"Have you not an escort?" Javert looked at her in shock.

"Oh, no, but I know my way around well enough," Adelaide assured him.

"Pardon if I seem impudent," he looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes as he carefully worded a respectful response, "but we do live in an area where there's many a criminal coming and going. I would not feel right with allowing a defenceless young woman to wander the street unattended."

"_Defenceless_?"

"Compared to a dangerous criminal who has been strengthened by years of prison work."

Adelaide gave a slight smirk, and looked over the man. He had a strange combination of frankness and courtesy mixed with authority.

He was stubborn, but she was she.

"And what do you propose I do then? I cannot disobey Père's orders to return home, and I certainly can't stay here, so how do you suggest I get home?" she crossed her arms.

Silence.

"Unless," she smirked, "_you're _offering to escort me."

His eyes went wide, "Oh, no, Mademoiselle, it would not be proper for me to- Not that I wouldn't, if need be, but… Surely there's someone else available."

"Nope, just you."

Adelaide was taking way too much pleasure in making him squirm.

"Well, then," she picked up her basket, "if you're not going to escort me, then I'll just be on my way."

Javert sighed and looked back at her. As he eyes met hers, they sent one very clear message:

You win.

"May I escort you home?" Javert asked with a slight hint of bitterness, but not hatred.

"Oh, non, Monsieur," Adelaide shook her head. "Père says not to go walking with strange men, and you and I have not been properly introduced. Je m'appelle Adelaide Enjolras."

Javert regarded her with disbelief; he either liked her, or thought she was crazy.

"Gabriel Javert," he sighed, bowing his head.

"Enchantée," she replied.

"Likewise, Mademoiselle Enjolras. Now would you do me the honour, of allowing me to escort you home?" Javert offered her his arm.

"Oui, Monsieur," she smiled linking her arm through his, and handing him her basket when he gestured for it. "And call me Adelaide."

They walked in stubborn silence, a trait that would always follow one of their fights from that day on. It was like a competition to see who would crack first.

"I meant no offence," Javert broke first, like usual.

He may have the determination of a hellhound, but she had the patience of a saint.

Either way, they were both stubborn as mules.

"And none was taken," Adelaide assured him. "I just don't like when people assume I'm weak."

"Trust me, I won't be making that mistake again," he replied.

"You're a quick learner."

"So I've been told."

"It's a good thing, women like that in a man," she said. "I know I do."

Javert was not the type of man to blush, but he was known to avert his eyes.

Adelaide observed her companion; he reminded her much of a bulldog, yet he was quite prim and proper. One would expect him to come from a well-off family rather than his all too well-known background. It was no wonder he was almost thirty and still single, no girl would want to mix with that danger. But still, Adelaide couldn't help but think that a life with no danger was just plain boring. Or maybe that was just because she had read so many books.

Speaking of…

"The Art of the Heavens?"

"Pardon?" Javert looked to her.

"The Art of the Heavens," Adelaide repeated. "Your book."

"Oh yes, it's about stars and constellations," he replied. "How to spot them, the recent theories and developments in the scientific community, the myths behind them, anything you really want to know."

"Sounds good."

"It is."

"Good enough to read while walking and send a girl crashing to the ground?"

Javert looked away again, and Adelaide smiled, was he nervous?

"I caught you before you fell," Javert corrected.

"Technicalities," Adelaide waved off. "So, what made you interested in stars? Your mother?"

Javert winced, and Adelaide knew she had gone too far.

"Pardon," she frowned, "I didn't mean-"

"Here we are," he interrupted, coming to a stop. She hadn't even noticed when they had neared her home.

"Merci, Monsieur," Adelaide said releasing herself from his arm. "But I'm still sure I would have gotten home safe."

"I've no doubt," he smiled softly. It was the first time she had even seen his smile; she had to say she like it.

"Then why'd you insist on escorting me home?" she asked, matching his smile.

He looked away once more, but his smile did not disappear.

Propriety would demand that she simply thank him and go into the house, but she for some reason she couldn't put her finger on, she couldn't tear herself away.

He intrigued her.

"Will you be attending the Renault wedding?" Adelaide asked. The son of one of the higher ranking guards from the Bagne was marrying next week, and all of the law enforcement in Toulon was expected to attend.

"He is my superior, so my absence would be noted," Javert replied. To be honest, he was lucky to have received an invitation, and he _never _turned down the invitation of someone who was willing to have him, despite his background.

"I'll be there as my Père's escort," Adelaide said. "Though I'll mostly be figuring out how to bat off overzealous suitors who won't take no for an answer."

"Well, if it gets to be too much for you, I might be… I mean, if you need me to, I could-"

"Save me?" she suggested. "Yes, I'd like that. And maybe you could tell me more about your stars."

Javert swallowed, "I'd like that."

They stared at each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking, but providing no answers themselves.

"Well," Adelaide said, "Père will be waiting."

"Right. I believe this is yours," Javert handed her, her basket.

"Merci, Monsieur Javert. Merci for everything."

"Anytime, Mademoiselle Adelaide."

"Just Adelaide," she corrected.

Javert nodded, "Adelaide."

Adelaide smiled, then turned and made her way down the pathway to the door, taking one last look at her escort before she entered the abode.

Javert stood there observing the house for a few moments, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"_What was that?"_ asked a small voice in the back of his head.

He didn't know, but he was _definitely _going to the Renault wedding.

* * *

Sometimes Javert forgot that he was just kidding himself. He would go to these fancy events, get dressed up, look and act his best, and then be slapped in the face with the reminder of what he was.

The bastard of a gypsy and a thief.

And that's all that ever mattered.

He had long ago stopped asking young women to dance with him, and he no longer attempted to engage respectable men in conversation. Javert simply made the appropriate appearance, gave the required congratulations, then slunk away to some abandoned garden or balcony until it was a reasonable time to leave.

So once again, there he stood in the Renaults' garden, arms folded behind his back, staring up at the stars, just trying to run out the time until he could leave. At least tonight he had something new to do, as he attempted to spot the new constellations he read about in his book. Javert wasn't rude enough to have brought it with him, but he was guilty of wishing he had.

The book.

He couldn't help but think of his encounter with Adelaide some days ago and when he caught her reading his book. She had been the first person Javert had met that seemed interested in what he had to say about stars. Usually the townsfolk chalked it up as some witchcraft his gypsy mother had taught him. But Adelaide was different; she almost seemed to enjoy his company.

In the days since that encounter in the market, Javert had struggled to understand what exactly had happened between the two of them. He wasn't going to go so far as to delude himself into thinking her behaviour was any signal of romantic interest. Mademoiselle Enjolras could string along half the town if she desired, and it would be a lie to say if she hadn't turned his head a time or two, but her sights for husband material was set much higher… or at least they _should _be.

Yet, the teasing, there was something about it that was different than what Javert had observed in her natural self. But it didn't matter, he wasn't looking for a wife, and even if he was, Mademoiselle Enjolras was one of the last women he'd consider. Six years his junior, classes above him, too stubborn to comply with a lifestyle he would provide. No, he would not consider her in any respect but a friend at most. He didn't need a wife, nor did he want one. The Javert line would die with him, and he was fine with that, he was much better on his own.

But still…

"Stargazing?"

Javert jumped at the sudden intrusion, and with no doubt a humorous expression adoring his face, he turned toward steps leading back into the house to see his companion.

Sure enough, it was the very subject of his thoughts.

"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Enjolras," he bowed as the Inspector's daughter approached him with a smile.

"Monsieur Javert, I thought I asked you to call me by my given name?" Adelaide came to a stop beside him.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle, I just thought, given the formality of the event, it would be appropriate to greet you with formality," he explained.

"Yes, because there are just so many guests out here," Adelaide looked sarcastically around the deserted garden. "Trust me, no one's going to see us out here."

"But they're sure to notice your absence."

"It's nothing new, I've been ducking parties since I turned sixteen, and was classified as eligible. Honestly, people are more likely to talk if I _didn't _disappear than if I did." Adelaide fidgeted with the wrap draping over her arms, "Though they're still talking about our little adventure in the market. You walk one time on the arm of a man, next thing you know, the whole town assumes I've finally accepted a request to court."

Javert looked away, "Pardon if I've called into question your reputation."

"People put too much stock into reputation; it's a mask so they don't have to really get to know people. I mean take yourself for example, you are one of the most proper and respectable men I've ever met, yet they look down on you because your mother's a-"

The assistant guard looked back at her, and she winced, she had to stop bringing this up.

"Pardon," Adelaide looked down. "I didn't mean to bring up- I mean that, I didn't… I'm sorry."

"That's alright," he replied stiffly. "I'm used to it."

They stood there in silence, the tension from her words clinging tightly in the air; any light heartedness had been killed in one fell swoop. Javert couldn't help but take a sideways glance at Adelaide, her head was hung and a frown stood where that glorious smile of hers once resided.

She had meant no harm.

"You were right," Javert gazed back up at the starry night sky, each dot a glimmering candle in the cold distant night.

"Pardon?" Adelaide looked over at her companion watching the night sky with a tall, straight posture, hands folded neatly behind his back.

"My mother," he turned back to the Inspector's daughter. "She was the one who interested me in stars. She used to tell me that speaking to the stars was a prayer to the Lord God, that he uses the stars to watch down on us from heaven. Since then I've never been able to feel closer to the Almighty than when I gazed up at the stars."

Adelaide turned her head up to the stars, "I never looked at it that way."

"Maybe you should look again." Javert hesitated, then, ever so slowly, took another step closer to her, "Sometimes a second look can show you things you missed."

Adelaide's breath slowed, whether that was because of his closer proximity or the magnitude of the heavens, she couldn't tell. What she did know was that he was right; each glimmering dot was like a shimmering angel on a heavenly canvas.

It was breathtaking.

"Do you know any stars?" she asked, looking back at him.

"A few. Here, do you see those four stars there?" Javert pointed up into the sky where four stars formed an upside down trapezoid. "Now look over here, off the edge of that star? See those three stars that come off it like a handle? That's the Great Chariot; it's a simple constellation to find."

"So," Adelaide placed her wrap on the ground and then traced the path of the seven stars he had pointed out, "those ones?"

"Perfect."

"What else is there?"

"Remember that last star?" Javert took another step closer to her, so he was practically behind her, very close to touching. "If we follow that star we can find Polaris, the North Star."

"So… this one?" Adelaide moving her hand to another star.

"Non." Javert hesitated, it wouldn't be considered proper, but he took a deep breath, and gently took a hold of her hand and guided it the correct spot. "There. No matter where you are in the world, if you're north of the equator, you will always be able to see that star. It is the one constant I can trust, that I will always be able to look up and see the same stars, no matter what."

Adelaide's breath hitched, this was the first time a man had ever dared to touch her like this. Sure, he had held her arm, and grabbed her hand and waist the day in the market, a feeling she hadn't been able to forget since, but there was something about the feeling that thrilled her. It was strong, it was sturdy, it was respectful…

It was right.

"Do you see?" Javert whispered in her ear, breath tickling her neck.

"Yes," Adelaide almost dare not speak. She turned her head ever so slightly to right and met his cold blue eyes, "Yes."

There was something new in his eyes, something that almost made them not so distant and guarded.

What she didn't know was she had the same look.

"Adelaide!"

It was almost comic how fast they broke apart and turned to the stairs, both muttering some fib of an excuse as to their positioning.

They were met by the sight of Léonard Enjolras, arms folded and smirking.

Adelaide's father was a curious man; the Chief Inspector of Toulon was a strong, respected man with spades of authority surrounding him. He ruled Toulon with an iron fist, that is, if you considered a firm handshake and a hard slap on the back, the stuff of iron. Léonard had no tolerance for brutality on his force, and was less likely to attack you with physical violence than a smirk and biting sarcasm. Though considered soft by the surrounding prefects, no one could deny that his methods didn't bring results. When called into action to break up a fight or solve a crime, Léonard was sight to behold; he always got his man.

With _no _exceptions_._

Truth be told, he was something of an idol to Javert, and the assistant guard had long decided that he would do anything to try to win over Léonard into giving him a spot on the police force in the hope that he may one day work up to be a Chief Inspector like his hero.

So being caught in a compromising position with Léonard's daughter probably wasn't going to help his agenda any time soon.

"Père," a blush crept up Adelaide's cheeks as occupied herself with brushing off all the imaginary dirt from her dress to avoid her father's gaze. "I was just… Javert was just showing me… I mean, we were-"

"Stargazing?" Léonard offered, raising a brow at the couple who were both furiously avoiding his gaze. "I see."

"Forgive me, Monsieur," Javert bowed his head, "I did not intend to compromise your daughter in any way."

"Of course," Léonard restrained the urge to laugh at the embarrassed pair. "Next time, try not to make it look so suspicious."

It was hard for Léonard to understand what the couple said next as their objections overlapped each other, but he was sure it was something about it not happening again, not that it wasn't fun, it just wasn't proper, and so on.

"Well, whatever happened out here doesn't matter," Léonard held up a hand to silence them. "I merely came out here to tell Addie that it's getting late and I was thinking it's about time to head home. That is, unless you want to stay a little longer here with Monsieur Javert?"

"C'est bien, Père," Adelaide objected as Javert quickly averted his gaze. "I think now would be fine to depart. Merci, Monsieur, I had a good time."

"Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle Enjolras," Javert avoided looking at Adelaide's father as he bowed to her.

Adelaide bit back the urge to correct his address of her name. Javert was already embarrassed enough, she didn't need to make to worse by revealing to her father that they were on a first name basis.

"Bonne nuit, Monsieur Javert," she nodded, before taking her father's arm and heading back into the house. But right before they disappeared into the house, she glanced back at Javert watching her.

He smiled and nodded.

She returned the smile.

Long after the Inspector and his daughter left, Javert still stood there, staring at the door, smiling.

"_Don't even think about it," _said the voice in the back of his head. _"She is so far out of your league, it's not even funny."_

Javert barely even registered the voice's warning; all he could focus on was trying to figure out when he could see her again.

Maybe he would talk to her after church on Sunday? No, that was too far off, besides she was always busy giving out alms to the poor with her father or batting off suitors who used the chance to give their request to court her.

Maybe he would bump into her at the market again? No, he didn't know her grocery schedule, and he wasn't about to follow her around town and scare her off. Besides, you could only bump into a person so many times before you were accused of plotting something of ill-intention.

Maybe he would see her at the police station? No, any criminal brought there was out of his jurisdiction, and Adelaide rarely went to the station anymore.

Unless…

Yes, she always brought her father lunch at noon! And if Javert just happened to be walking by the station when Adelaide _happened _to be bringing her father his lunch-

What was that?

Javert frowned as something caught his peripheral, there was something lying on the ground next to his foot.

Slowly, he bent down and picked it up. He examined it for a few minutes before he nearly jumped with glee. It was Adelaide's wrap! She had placed it down to point at the stars, and in their moment of embarrassment, she had forgotten it.

Well, it would be rude not to return it, wouldn't it?

* * *

"Do you like him?"

"Father!"

"What? It's a reasonable question."

Adelaide rolled her eyes and went back to stirring the pot over the fire, her father had been after her all day for details on her little encounter with Javert last night, "It's none of your business."

"It is if my daughter's finally decided to court," Léonard shot back as he set the table.

"I haven't decided anything," Adelaide focused her attentions back on the soup pot.

"So there's something to consider," Léonard set down the bowls.

"No," Adelaide sighed, "there isn't. Look, I have to face reality, any interest I may have, which I'm not saying I do… It wouldn't be proper, someone of my rank with someone of his."

"Addie," Léonard shook his head, "we abandoned all pretences of propriety the day I taught you to read."

The young woman looked away, and her father sighed. He walked over to the hearth and stayed her hand which had been stirring the pot.

"Père," Adelaide frowned looking back up at all that was left of her family.

"Adelaide, bien-amiée," Léonard took his daughter's hands. "I'm not getting any younger, and in my line of work, you're at risk of losing me every single day. I just want to know that if something happens to me, that there will be someone to take care of you, to protect you, to love you. Someone you love in return. So forget about class difference, forget about what everyone might say, just pick the man, and I'll take care of the rest."

Adelaide closed her eyes and sighed, "Merci, Papa, but even if I was interested in Javert, which I'm not saying I am… Javert is not the kind of man to go after a woman."

There was a knock on the door.

Léonard raised a brow at his daughter, and Adelaide just shrugged; she had no idea who it was. The Inspector crossed over to the door, and when he opened it he found an, _oh so pleasant, _surprise.

"Monsieur, Inspector," Gabriel Javert removed his hat and bowed.

Léonard smirked and turned to Adelaide, "You were saying?"

"Pardon?" Javert frowned as Adelaide hurried to the door, smoothing down her hair.

"It's nothing," Adelaide shot a look to her father. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, you left your wrap at the wedding last night, and I thought I'd return it to you," Javert extended the cloth that had been held by his side.

"Oh," Adelaide took her wrap, "merci, I hadn't even noticed."

"De rien," Javert bowed slightly. "It was my pleasure, Mademoiselle-"

Javert caught sight of Léonard's amused expression.

"Enjolras," Javert finished.

The pair shifted their weight awkwardly, once again not quite sure what to do next.

So, naturally, Léonard pounced.

"Why don't you join us for dinner, Monsieur?" Léonard offered.

"Père!" Adelaide exclaimed.

Javert looked between the father and daughter, "I'm not sure that would be appropriate."

"Come now, it's near supper time, and Addie always makes too much," Léonard replied urging Javert into the house and offering him a chair. "A good thing about this girl, she keeps you well fed."

As Javert sat in the given spot, Adelaide grabbed her father's arm, and pulled him close.

"Stop trying to sell me off to the highest bidder," she hissed in his ear with a fervent glance at Javert.

"Sweetheart," Léonard gave a low chuckle and whispered back, "he's nowhere near the highest bidder. Now scoot, we have a guest. I'll set the extra place and you serve your little friend."

Adelaide had half a mind to smack her father.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion," Javert said as Adelaide filled the bowls and placed them on the table.

"Don't worry about it," Adelaide shook her head. "You didn't hear it from me, but he's wanted to spend some one on one time with you for a while, long before he had any idea of our interactions."

Javert looked up sharply, and Adelaide's eyes went wide.

"Not to imply anything between us," Adelaide stuttered. "I mean not that there's anything wrong with… Not that I'm implying… I mean-"

"I understand," Javert interrupted. "So, why has he wanted to spend time with me?"

"He's heard about how good you are at the Bagne. I suppose he's looking to ask you to leave it to join the police force." Adelaide looked to make sure her father wasn't listening, and leaned in closer, "And you didn't hear this from me, but I may have heard Père say that in ten years' time, he could see you as a Chief Inspector, watching over your own precinct."

"Truly?" Javert looked over to Léonard, who was fast approaching the table.

"Truly," she quickly nodded.

"And what are you two lovebirds whispering about?" Léonard set his gathered dishes on the table.

"Père!" Adelaide cried out and Javert averted his gaze.

"I'm kidding," Léonard shook his head laughing. "Come Addie, take your seat."

"Allow me," Javert stood and moved around to the back of her chair.

Adelaide and her father shared a quick look before Adelaide took her seat and Javert gently pushed in her chair.

"Merci, Monsieur," Adelaide nodded.

"De rien, Mademoiselle," Javert smiled and took his seat.

Adelaide and Javert held each other's gaze, both smiling, almost forgetting that they were not alone, until Léonard declared it was time to dig in.

The dinner was simple, and Javert was an excellent guest. He complimented Adelaide on her cooking, and patiently listened to Léonard lecture the couple on how all men should learn to cook in case something should happen to the women in their lives, as he had been at a loss when he suddenly found himself without wife or mother. Javert assured him, not to worry, as he had been living on his own for quite some time, and had learned to feed himself long ago.

They held pleasant conversations, lingering on the topics of work, criminals, the government, exchanging a little gossip, and how unfair prices at market were.

And for the first time in a long time, Javert had dinner with people who didn't care of his background, and treated him as an equal.

"A man should not live in his father's shadow," Léonard assured him. "He is his own man, free to make his own mistakes and choices."

It was peaceful.

…Until they were interrupted by a loud pounding at the door.

"Alright! Alright!" Léonard stood up and crossed the room. "I'm coming!"

Léonard opened the door to reveal Gérard Chevalier, a guard of the Bagne, and ironically Javert's boss.

Technically Javert was an assistant to the guard, but as he did more guarding than assisting, most forewent the proper title and just called him an assistant guard. He was in the charge of Chevalier, who had taught him almost everything Javert knew, including the idea of tough love and the idea that the prisoners should always look down, and never let them look you in the eye. Chevalier was a hard man, and his methods would one day heavily influence Javert into becoming the stone hearted, fearsome man he would be known as.

As for now, he was merely panting and frantic looking, as he leaned against the doorframe of the Enjolras household, almost as if he had run a great distance.

"What is it, Gérard?" Léonard asked, glancing back at the table. "I have a guest over."

Chevalier started at the sight of his assistant dining with one of the most powerful men in town… and at how close Javert's chair was to said man's daughter, who was notorious for rejecting suitors.

"Uh, pardon," Chevalier blinked in confusion. "I was unaware that…"

Javert and Adelaide looked at each other, they hadn't noticed their proximity, and swiftly corrected it, Adelaide blushing and Javert looking away.

Léonard raised a brow and looked back at the guard, "You were saying?"

"Right," Chevalier snapped back into reality. "Prisoner break, at the Bagne. We'd like your help to bring him back."

"Of course," Léonard looked back at Javert, who had risen from his chair. "Who's the prisoner?"

Chevalier hesitated.

Léonard frowned, and repeated firmly, "Chevalier, who is the prisoner?"

The guard sighed, "24601."

There was a collective groan among the household at the speaking of prisoner 24601, and it wasn't without good reason. The man had been sentenced to five years in prison for breaking a window and stealing a loaf of bread. He should have been long out of prison with only a short parole by now... That is, if he hadn't tried to escape three times already.

In his fourth year of imprisonment, 24601 had made his first attempt, actually getting away for two days before being brought back in. That attempt added three more years onto his sentence, but it wasn't until his sixth year of imprisonment that 24601 became an unwelcome name in the Enjolras household.

Like usual, Léonard and his men had been brought in to help catch the stray bird, and soon Léonard found him hiding in the dockyard under the keel of a vessel under construction. But this time, instead of going quietly, 24601 decided he'd rather make a fuss, and resisted arrest. By the time Léonard and his men had 24601 under control, three men had suffered broken fingers, one a sprained wrist, and Léonard himself had been dealt a broken arm and nose. For this struggle, 24601 had been awarded two more years to his sentence, in addition to the three given for escaping in the first place.

Since then, 24601 wasn't a name spoken lightly in the Enjolras household.

24601 had made another attempt in his tenth year, for which he got another three years, and now, in this his thirteenth year of imprisonment, with another escape underway, and three more years pending, 24601 was well on his way to lifetime parole, if not imprisonment.

Léonard took an annoyed sounding deep breath and exhaled heavily, "I'll get my coat."

"Oui, Monsieur," Chevalier bowed in respect.

"I'm sorry for cutting dinner short, Addie, but duty calls," Léonard put on his thick blue, uniform coat; there was no use in going in full uniform for a prisoner who would be back in jail in a few hours.

The Inspector grabbed his hat, and Chevalier turned to leave when Léonard stopped and looked back to the assistant guard.

"Why don't you come?"

Javert and Chevalier started.

"Pardon?" Javert asked.

"With us," Léonard nodded toward the door. "Why don't you help us track down 24601?"

"Monsieur!" Chevalier objected. "Pardon, but Javert is merely an assistant, it wouldn't be right-"

"All I know is that the more we stand and chat, the further 24601 gets," Léonard cut off. "Now look, all I've heard for the past few years is what an asset Javert is and how he has a bright future ahead of him. Well, I want to see him in action, so grab your hat and coat, and meet me in front of the stable, we leave in five minutes."

And with that Léonard was gone.

Javert looked hesitantly towards his superior.

"What are you standing there for?" Chevalier barked. "You heard the Inspector. Five minutes!"

As the guard disappeared from the doorframe, Adelaide and Javert looked at each other in shock.

"What just happened?" Javert asked.

"I don't know," Adelaide laughed. "But I do know that if you're not out there in five minutes, we'll have an unhappy Inspector on our hands."

Javert smiled, "Then I guess I better get out there."

Adelaide bit her lip, "I guess so."

They stared at each other for a second, once again trying to read each other. Both were afraid that one wrong move and the other would hit the hills faster than 24601.

"Um… Merci for bringing me my wrap," Adelaide spoke, breaking the ice.

"Anytime," Javert nodded.

"Four minutes!" Léonard's voice carried in from outside.

"I guess you'd better go," Adelaide shook her head at her father's antics.

"Thank you for dinner," he smiled.

Javert hesitated for a moment, then, carefully, he took Adelaide's hand and placed a gentle kiss upon it. Breaking the kiss, but still holding her hand, he looked up at her and met her eyes.

"Bonne nuit… Adelaide."

* * *

A mere four hours later, Léonard returned home exhausted, but it was worth it, they had quickly caught 24601 and safely returned him to his imprisonment.

And Adelaide still had the same goofy smile from Javert kissing her hand.

"I like that boy," Léonard said, hanging up his coat and hat. "Good guard and good dinner guest to boot. He reminds me kind of like a bloodhound, or maybe more like a bulldog. Actually, oui, definitely like a bulldog. He's good at the tracking and the chasing, not so much with the actual detaining part."

"Uh huh," Adelaide nodded absentmindedly, caught in her thoughts of Javert and why was it that she was so drawn to him. It wasn't that he was the most handsome or intelligent man she had ever met, but he was more than decent. Altogether he was quite average, of a low class, and had a tough, unfriendly exterior. Yet still, she was drawn to him.

But why?

"My, my," Léonard smirked at his daughter. "I haven't seen you smile like that in a long time. Thoughts of Javert?"

Her father's teasing comment bounced off her; she barely even registered it. It was in that moment that Adelaide finally figured out what had drawn her to the silent Javert.

He had carried a conversation.

And he had made her smile.

* * *

Again, sorry that there was no Enjolras in this chapter, but if all goes right with the next chapter, he should be entering the story at the end of it. I just really wanted to establish Javert and Adelaide's relationship, because although this story is about Enjolras and Javert, at the core, it's a story about a family, and Adelaide is an extremely important third member of the Javert family.

Just so you know, there is going to be French in this story, but I'm going to try to keep it to a minimum, just things like Bonjour (good morning), Bonne nuit (good night), Non (no) and other such simple phrases. Grande Ourse is the French term for The Greater Bear, also known as Ursa Major and The Great Chariot is the French term for the constellation The Big Dipper, also known as The Plough. _L'art dies Cieux_ translating to The Art of the Heavens, is a fictional book created specifically for this story. Keep the book and its initial description in mind, as it'll be an important symbol throughout the story.

Again, for all the latest news on My Father's Shadow, including preview artwork, and excerpts from upcoming chapters, please visit the tumblr account happinessiveneverknown.

Read and review.


	2. 1809-1811 - The Hope for Love

Sorry for the long wait, but I hope I can make it up with a supersized chapter running 34 pages. I just really wanted to get through all of Javert and Adelaide's courtship so we can finally move on to the Javert and Enjolras relationship.

Before we start, I'd like to thank everyone who favourite and alerted me and my story, and especially those who took the time to give me a review. I'm always happy to read your reviews and hear what you liked, what you didn't, as well as criticism and concerns. I can only improve if you tell me what to improve upon. Additionally, if you send me a non-guest review and allow PMs, I try to always give you a response to thank you and answer what questions or concerns you may have.

There's just one guest review I received that I would like to address before we start. Les Gymnables, you were concerned about the use of modern language in the story. As a rule, I try to keep terms as authentic as possible, but every now and then something like the occasional use of okay will slip in. This is unintentional and if anyone catches an inaccuracy, _please tell me_. Somehow last chapter the term legit slipped in, and I had reread the thing about five times, as well as shown it to two other people. Since Les Gymnables pointed it out, it has since been corrected to the proper term of legitimate, and I thank you for informing me of that mistake. Additionally, every now and then I may use a term under the impression that the term is older than I expect. Again, please point these out. I want to give an enjoyable reading experience and the last thing I want is people getting jolted out of the story by blatant anachronisms. I know how horrible that is, like this one time I was reading a Pirates of the Caribbean story and someone received the gift of CDs. I stopped reading that story pretty quickly.

As for the church scene in this chapter, I figure the Javert and Adelaide would probably be Catholic, and although I used to attend a Catholic church, it's been a while and I'm sorry if there's any inaccuracies in the way service is held. Most of my source research is bits from the internet, influence from _Pillars of the Earth_ and hazy memories from childhood.

So, again, if you find any concerns with the story, please inform me of them and I'll do my best to correct them… unless it's about courtship etiquette. After the chapter was posted I looked up 1800s courtship etiquette and came to the horrible realisation that half of the things Adelaide did last chapter would make society call her a whore. But I ask that you cut me some slack as the stuff I found was from British 1860s high society, and I think the Inspector's daughter living in 1809 Toulon would be held to less strict standards. Plus, it's Léonard's daughter, you think he cares?

Well, on with the story, and good news we get Enjolras by the end of the chapter (though, in all fairness, we already have two technically Enjolras characters in the story).

* * *

My Father's Shadow

Chapter Two

The Hope for Love

The wind whipped the drenching rain upon the prisoners' faces so hard, it was hard to tell if it was water falling from the sky, or blistering hail. What little clothes they wore were absolutely drenched, and there was no doubt there would be many a man in the prison hospital that night. Their muscles ached from the hard labour and their stomachs groaned from the meager diet of dried vegetables, most of which were beans, sloshing around with their small ration of wine and what scraps of meat they had been given.

It was truly hell on earth.

However, there _was_ only one thing that made the situation tolerable for the less prisoners than slaves.

One of the guards was whistling.

It was the tune of their work song. _Look down, look down, don't look them in the eye. Look down, look down, you're here until you die._ There were more verses, each more morbid than the last, and it inspired no hope in the prisoners, but it set a rhythm for them to work to and helped pass the time.

Plus, it was downright hilarious when the first man caught the assistant guard whistling it.

"_No god, above, and hell alone below," _one of the men chanted as he worked with his comrades to haul the wreckage of the ship they had been given that day.

"_Look down, look down, there's twenty years to go," _was chanted back appropriately as Gérard Chevalier observed the prisoners, silently counting his section and giving extra attention to 24601 to make sure he didn't try anything again.

"_I've done no wrong," _chanted two men as with an unset schedule of who would sing what lines, sometimes more than one man would take a part._ "Sweet Jesus hear my prayer."_

A man next to one of the chanters nudged him, clearly the action was to correct the chanter and make sure he didn't do it again.

…Or to gesture off to the left of Chevalier.

"_Look down, look down, sweet Jesus doesn't care."_

Come to think of it, the more Chevalier looked around, the more of them were gesturing towards something off to his left.

"_I know she'll wait, I know that she'll be true."_

Chevalier took a glance to the man on his left and frowned at him.

"_Look down, look down, they've all forgotten you."_

It was impossible _he _could be cause of the distraction. _He _was one of the most obedient and formal officers in the Bagne. No, this must be a new form of distraction by the prisoners, plotting for one of their own to make an escape while the guards weren't paying attention.

"_When I get free, you won't see me. Here for dust."_

It was as he tried to figure out what exactly the prisoners were up to, that Chevalier heard the whistling.

"_Look down, look down, you'll always be a slave." _

With a hard set look on his face, Chevalier strode over to the man, who was still standing tall, obliviously whistling the work song.

"_Look down, look down, you're standing-"_

"Javert!"

The assistant guard snapped instantly into a salute.

"My office," Chevalier frowned at his assistant. "_Now._"

* * *

Javert kept his eyes set forward, arms folded behind his back, standing tall at attention as he heard the familiar sound of the door clicking shut and he waited for his commanding officer's orders on what to do next.

"Take a seat, Javert," Chevalier gestured to the empty chair and rounded to his proper side of the desk.

"Sir," Javert bowed his head as his boss took the seat across from the assistant guard and he desperately attempted to push from his head the thoughts that had been plaguing him so long.

"Javert," Chevalier said suddenly, "do you know the reason why we let the prisoners sing that song?"

"Oui, Monsieur," Javert nodded. "It's an appropriate rhythm that sets a productive work pace so that the prisoners-"

"Non," Chevalier cut him off sharply. "Do you know why we let the prisoners sing _that _song? Why not any other song? There are dozens of more appropriate songs with appropriate and effective work rhythms. So do you know why we let them sing _that _song?"

"Non, Monsieur."

"It's the lyrics. Look down; you'll always be a slave. Look down; you're standing in your grave. It allows them to sing their song, the song of angry men, yet at the same time it reminds them of their place in life. But do you remember what I told you about the song the first day you started working here?"

"That the song is true," Javert obediently recalled. "You must do as the song says and look down on them."

"But there's an even more important order in that song," Chevalier said, his hard gaze set upon his assistant. "Do you know what it is?"

Javert breathed deeply is almost what one might call a sigh, "Do not _ever_ let them look you in the eye."

"Do _not _ever let them look you in the eye, and certainly never let them catch you whistling. Do you understand?"

"Oui, Monsieur," Javert bowed his head.

Chevalier stared at his assistant, reading and calculating, "Non. You still don't understand what I'm saying. Javert, do you know what the most important thing in the world is?"

Javert responded as politely as possible, "Monsieur, I could sit here all day and probably not guess what you believe to be the most important thing in the world is."

Chevalier stared at him and then simply said, "Hope."

"Hope?" Javert frowned.

"Hope. Too much of it people lose their minds, and push the limits too far. Not enough and people don't find any reason to live. _You _have new hope, hope for a possible future with the Chief Inspector's daughter, and hope for the possibly of that mysterious thing called love-"

"Pardon, Monsieur!" Javert objected, eyes going wide and gaze shifting away.

"Let me finish," Chevalier held up his hand. "_They _sing, because they have hope, and it's our job to ensure that they keep that hope. But it's also our job to ensure that the song of angry men stays just a song."

"Pardon, Monsieur," Javert bowed his head. "I will deal with this issue on my own time. I will no longer allow any worry or plan regarding Mademoiselle Enjolras to pass through my mind on duty, nor will I… continue to whistle."

"Alright, but let's get one thing straight here, Javert." Every word out of Chevalier's mouth was cold and sharp, "Je m'en fou about your love life. You can go after the Inspector's daughter, or whatever putain on the street that strikes your fancy. I don't care. Just get your head out of your cul, stop the whistling and do your job before I make you find a new one. Comprenez-vous?"

"Oui, Monsieur."

Javert promised not to worry or plan anything regarding Adelaide, and he certainly was going to stop the whistling.

But he never promised to stop thinking about her.

That was just impossible.

* * *

It was impossible for Adelaide to stop thinking of Javert.

She replayed their encounters together over and over in her mind. The strength of his arm as he caught her from falling in the marketplace. The touch of his hand, guiding her to the proper stars as they gazed at the night sky. The tickle of his stubble as he placed that gentle kiss upon her hand. There was no denying it, she had finally fallen for someone, and dare she even say it, she was downright smitten.

Not that she told her father. He'd never let her hear the end of it.

"My, my, don't we look nice?" Léonard's voice pulled his daughter out of her thoughts as he hung by her bedroom doorframe.

"Well, it is Dimanche, I have to wear my best to church," Adelaide primped her hair, observing herself in the small looking glass her father had given her for one of her birthdays many years ago.

"Oui, I know that much, but, uh," Léonard eyed her outfit, "any reason you picked _that _particular dress?"

Adelaide blushed and looked down at her outfit. She was a lucky to own three dresses she could wear to church on Sundays. There was a cream coloured one, a pale purple one, and the one she currently was wearing.

"Nope. Now could you help me do up the back?" Adelaide lifted her hair and turned her head towards her father.

"Sure thing."

Léonard crossed over to his daughter and started working the laces with hands well practiced from dressing a daughter without a mother's help. Truth be told, the first ten or so years of her life Adelaide had often looked a bit of a mess. That's not to say Léonard couldn't dress his daughter because he was a man, and men don't know how to dress women. The reason Léonard struggled was that as a man, he hadn't learned how to work laces and buttons, except when he had been undressing his wife and that was only in reverse.

Adelaide let out a little gasp as the Inspector pulled her laces to their usually tightness, and the suddenness of the movement cut her breath a little short.

"Wait," Adelaide said as Léonard started tying the laces, "could you… Maybe make them a little tighter today?"

Léonard raised a brow at his daughter and smirked, "Like this?"

Adelaide yelped as he yanked the laces.

"A… little… less… Père," Adelaide gasped struggling behind her back to loosen the laces.

"Alright," Léonard chuckled slackening the laces so that they were tighter than normal, but his daughter could still breathe, "but tightening your laces isn't going to make him think you're more attractive."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Adelaide feigned ignorance as she rechecked her appearance in the mirror.

"Of course." Léonard began tying the laces securely. "Remind me, isn't Monsieur Javert's favorite colour blue?"

Adelaide looked down at the fabric of her dress.

The _blue_ fabric.

"I haven't the fuzziest," Adelaide replied simply looking back at her father through the mirror.

"Uh huh," Léonard rolled his eyes knotting the laces and starting to work on the buttons. "I do recall that his Dimanche best the same colour as this dress."

Adelaide looked down and muttered, "Actually this is powder blue, Javert wears navy blue."

"Ah ha!" Léonard exclaimed. "So you _are _interested in Javert!"

"Keep it down!" Adelaide snapped.

"Yes, because there are so many other people in this house," Léonard rolled his eyes doing up the last button on his daughter's dress. "Ribbon?"

"Wardrobe," Adelaide pointed to the armoire.

"So," Léonard walked over and opened the free standing cupboard withdrawing the medium blue sash that completed his daughter's Dimanche best, "should I be expecting a request to court anytime soon?"

Adelaide sighed fastening her rosary around her neck, "I don't think so. Javert is not the kind of man-"

"Who goes after a woman. Oui, I heard you last time," Léonard wrapped the sash around his daughter's waist. "However, due to him showing up at our home three seconds after you saying that, I think I would have to disagree with that statement."

"Père," Adelaide sighed.

"Non, listen," Léonard tied the sash into a bow on the back of the dress, "I like him, and I think you do too. You could do a lot worse than Gabriel Javert. He'll protect, care and provide for you, and I know he'll make you happy. Despite his standing, he's one of the best men in this town, and if he's the one you wish to wed, I'm more than glad to grant my permission."

"Merci, Father," Adelaide blushed and having finished being dressed, turned to face her father. "But let's stop listening for wedding bells just yet, I only ran into him at the market two weeks ago."

"Fair enough, but just so you know, I'm rooting for you."

Adelaide smiled fondly at her father, "Merci, Père."

"Now," Léonard put an arm around her shoulders, "church. Allez!"

* * *

Going to church was Adelaide's most hated part of the week. It was no reflection of her religious devotion; she was as religious as expected of a respectable young woman in the early 1800s. Additionally, Adelaide was one of those women who would be satisfied wearing casual garb, but jumped at the chance to dress up nicely for formal occasions, and Sundays were the perfect excuse to do so. The thing that made Adelaide hate going to church was that it was the perfect occasion for unwanted potential suitors to socialize with her. In recent years it had gotten quite bad and she more often than not was turning down requests to court, than actually praising God.

"Want me to walk you in?" Léonard asked as their carriage came to a stop in front of the church.

"I'll be fine, you go mingle," Adelaide replied as she glanced out the window, searching through the crowd and zoning in on one particular person.

"Sometimes I hate being Chief Inspector," Léonard groaned. "They make you _socialize_."

"Allez," Adelaide gave her father a playful swat.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," Léonard gave her a mock salute and opened the carriage door. Politely, he hopped out first to hold open the door for his daughter and give her a hand coming out. "So, are you looking for anyone in particular?"

"Of course," Adelaide smiled, locking eyes with her desired companion.

"Do I know them?" Léonard teased searching the crowd for his daughter's potential suitor. There was no way after such a confession that morning that he was going to let her live this down.

"You are well acquainted and dare I even say _fond_ of them."

"Let me guess, they have blonde hair, blue eyes and are wearing navy blue this morning?"

"Right on all accounts," Adelaide nodded to the subject of the father and daughter's little guessing game, signalling them to approach the pair.

Léonard scanned the direction he daughter was staring, "I don't see Monsieur Javert."

Adelaide smirked at her father, "Who said anything about Monsieur Javert?"

"Addie!" squealed a familiar voice and a blur of blonde and blue pelted into the Inspector's daughter.

Léonard chuckled and shook his head fondly at the sight, "I should have known."

Let it not be said that Adelaide Enjolras had no friends. Whether we acknowledge it or not, all persons on this earth cannot help but make friends during their lifetime. It is one of those things that make us fundamentally human. Adelaide Enjolras was no exception to this rule.

Adelaide was noted for her curious choice of companions, as well as her tendency to only keep close an exclusive few. Her most prominent companion before her marriage to Javert was a young woman by the name of Carine LaFleur. One year Adelaide's junior, the overly excited blonde was the perpetually happy daughter of the town physician and midwife, with connections on her mother's side ensuring that she was considered high society, but among its lower ranks.

"Oh, Addie! Is it true what they're saying?" Carine asked with her usual rapid and slightly pitchy tone practically jumping on her friend not caring that she was ruffling her navy toned dress. Though barely standing at five feet tall, Carine had enough personality to ensure when she entered a room, she was noticed. In general she reminded Adelaide of a jackrabbit. "Come on, tell me!"

"So, I'll leave you girls to chat," Léonard knew when to take his leave. "I'll see you inside Chérie."

"Socialize!" Adelaide called after him as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Oh, come now!" Carine turned her friend to face her. "Is it true?"

"Is what true? You're going to have to be more specific," Adelaide sighed in annoyance. Her compliant wasn't without reason; Carine LaFleur was the town's biggest gossip on par with that of a stereotypical pastor's wife.

Carine raised a brow, "About you and _Monsieur Javert_."

Adelaide blanched.

"What about Monsieur Javert?" Adelaide practically squeaked.

"Well, first that he walked with you in the market, then that you were sighted together at the Renault wedding, and rumour has it that he dined at your home the day after the wedding," Carine seemed absolutely giddy at the news.

Adelaide looked away awkwardly, "Has anyone ever told you that you gossip too much?"

"All the time," Carine waved off. "Now tell me, is it true?"

Adelaide sighed, "Alright… it's true."

Carine yelped happily in response and clapped her hands together, "Details!"

"I'm not giving you details about my interactions with Monsieur Javert, in the middle of a crowd!" Adelaide objected.

"Would you rather in the church?"

Adelaide's eyes went wide, "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Carine smirked.

Adelaide barely had time to react before she found herself being dragged through the crowd by the small, but surprisingly strong, physician's daughter.

"Carine, let go!" Adelaide struggled against Carine's vice grip on her arm.

Carine didn't even look back at her friend as she pushed her way through the crowd, "I offered to let you do this the easy way."

"No, you didn't!" Adelaide replied.

"Right, I didn't," Carine frowned. After a moment of thought, she just shrugged, "Well at least I saved us some time. Pardon moi! Coming through!"

Reaching the entrance of the church, Carine released Adelaide and the girls ducked into the almost completely empty church, hastily crossing themselves before entering the sanctuary.

"Now," Carine settled them in front of a pillar with her back to the pillar and Adelaide facing her, "tell me everything."

Adelaide took a glance around the room; there was no one in the church that she would care if they overheard the girls' conversation.

"Alright," Adelaide kept her voice low. "I ran into him at the market a couple of weeks ago and he offered to escort me home because he made me spill my groceries-"

"How-"

"I use ran into, in its literal sense."

"Fair enough," Carine nodded. "And the Renault wedding?"

"I made my break for it and ran into him, so we talked for a little while before Père said it was time to go," Adelaide explained. "But I forgot my wrap and he found it, so he came to the house the next night to return it and Père invited him to stay for dinner."

"And that's it?" Carine asked, unable to suppress the disappointed look from her face.

"Well, he also helped catch 24601 when he broke out again," Adelaide replied.

"24601 broke out again?" Carine paused, and then shook her head, "Never mind. So, what's going to happen with Javert and yourself?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Adelaide repeated.

Carine frowned thoughtfully for a few minutes, "But you want more to happen with him, right?"

"She wants more to happen with whom?" a voice came from behind Adelaide.

"Jérémie!" the girls exclaimed, turning to face the new addition to their conversation.

Twenty-five year old Jérémie Dubois was another one of the few that could be counted among Adelaide's friends. He came from high connections and good money with a mother from Parisian stock who had decided at a young age that she would dictate every moment of her son's life.

Luckily, due to spending time with girls like Adelaide and Carine, he had long ago learned how to bend the rules without actually breaking them.

And he had also learned how to tell when the girls were up to something.

His green eyes darted suspiciously between the two, "I know better than anyone that you two whispering behind pillars never leads to anything good."

"Says the man who's more often behind the pillars with us," Carine shot back.

Jérémie smiled at the blonde, "Indeed."

Adelaide discreetly glanced over Jérémie's shoulder and muttered, "Votre Mére."

Without hesitation, Jérémie grabbed Adelaide's hand, bowed and kissed it just as Madame Eleanor Dubois caught sight of her son.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle Enjolras," Eleanor warmly greeted the recipient of her son's hand kiss.

Coming from good connections in Paris, and having lost her husband four years past, Eleanor had her sights set high when looking for a daughter-in-law. And she wanted one soon. Over the years Jérémie had been forced to court almost every girl of high society, and had even been briefly engaged to one of the Renault daughters.

"Bonjour Madame Dubois," Adelaide bowed her head. "Jérémie was just telling me about…"

Adelaide looked to Jérémie for help, but he frowned, being unable to think of a good topic.

"Your new horses," Carine supplied. "The grey ones, Camargue thoroughbreds, oui?"

Sometimes it was a good thing being best friends with a gossip.

"Oui," Jérémie nodded. "That's exactly what I was telling Adelaide about."

"Oh?" Eleanor smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to go riding them with her sometime?"

Adelaide awkwardly looked away from the group; it was easy to feel the tension. It was thanks to Adelaide and Carine's intervention that the Renault engagement had fallen through, and both fiancé and fiancée were thankful. But Adelaide and Carine were pretty sure Eleanor had learned of their involvement, because in one fell swoop they were both suffering for it now.

Eleanor had set her sights on Adelaide for a daughter-in-law.

But Jérémie had only ever held eyes for Carine; eyes that were returned.

"Maman," Jérémie buried a hand into his brunette locks.

"Pardon, but I think it's absurd to keep secrets. Now, Adelaide," Eleanor took Adelaide's hand in one of her own, and one of Jérémie's hands in the other, "I know you have other offers, but let's stop being silly. You and my Jérémie are such close friends, and if I may be bold, I think you'd make a great match."

Gently Eleanor placed the two hands together, and placed her hand on top to hold them together.

Jérémie couldn't look Carine in the eye, but Adelaide could, and as Carine stared sorrowfully at the floor, a tear threatening to slip out, all Adelaide saw was Carine's heartbreak.

What she didn't see was Javert's sorrowful look as he observed the group.

"Don't worry, his world will go on turning if she rejects him," came a voice from beside him. "They're better as friends and she knows it."

Javert bowed to the man, "Inspector Enjolras."

"Monsieur Javert," Léonard greeted back. "So, I hear talk of you having certain interests with my daughter. Are they true?"

Javert looked away, "Your daughter keeps fine company."

"That's not what I asked."

The assistant guard looked over at the little group, Eleanor still holding Jérémie's hand to Adelaide's.

"Your daughter is a fascinating woman," Javert replied. "She is kind, understanding, holds great conversation, is a wonderful cook-"

"Get to the point," Léonard pushed.

Javert took a deep breath, "And if I were to see her in a more than sociable fashion, I would not be averse to it."

Léonard stared at the man, "Look, since you're not going to just say it, I'm going to ask. Do you want to court my daughter?"

Javert looked to the floor, unable to meet the eye of his desire's father, "If they were welcome, those would be my intentions toward your daughter."

Gathering his courage, Javert glanced up at the Chief Inspector, bracing himself for whatever response he would get.

Of course he was smirking.

"I knew it," Léonard simply said. "Well, now that that's settled-"

"Pardon Monsieur, but what do you mean settled?" Javert frowned in confusion.

"It's simple; it appears that my daughter returns your affections, so all you need to do is ask her for her permission to court-"

"Not yours?" Javert asked in confusion.

"You get mine if you get hers," Léonard replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go save my daughter from Dubois. Bonne chance, I'm rooting for you."

Javert was left standing there both delighted and utterly confused.

"I know you would be happy together," Eleanor continued her praise of Jérémie and Adelaide as a couple, finally removing her hand from theirs.

"Merci, Madame," Adelaide quickly tore her hand from Jérémie's, "but I must disagree. Thank you for your interest, but… I'm afraid-"

"We're going to hold up mass," everyone turned to see Léonard approach the group. Swiftly the officer took his daughter's arm in his own and kindly, but authoritatively said, "Perhaps we could continue this discussion at a later time?"

"Of course," Eleanor glanced over at Carine and frowned, Adelaide was her last chance at an influential wife for her son. It wasn't that she had anything against the girl personally, well, maybe her insufferable gossiping, but she just wanted something more for her son. "Come Jérémie, mass is starting."

"Mademoiselles. Inspector," Jérémie bowed to the group, took his mother's arm and left.

"I should head off too," Carine said once Jérémie had disappeared with his mother. "My family will be looking for me. Addie, you have to tell me more about Javert afterwards."

"Well she may have some new developments to report soon," Léonard gave in to his unfortunate habit of encouraging Carine's gossiping tongue.

"_Oh_?" Carine asked, eyes lighting up.

"Oui, _oh_?" Adelaide frowned at her father.

"I was going to tell you later, but maybe now might be a good time," Léonard replied. "I just had a little chat with our favorite assistant to the guard, and he's expressed interest in courtship."

Carine took a great breath, but found Adelaide's hand slapped over her mouth before she could get out a single word.

"Truly?" Adelaide looked carefully at her father. "This isn't something to jest about Father."

"Really and truly. He's just over there," Léonard nodded to Javert.

Adelaide couldn't help but smile when her eyes met Javert's, and her heart fluttered lightly in her chest. She wouldn't just yet call it love, but there was something between them. Javert bowed his head respectfully at her, a slight smile plastered upon his face.

Suddenly he frowned.

Her current position finally registered in Adelaide's head.

"Sorry," Adelaide removed her hand from her friend's mouth. "But not a word."

"Addie," Carine smiled looking between her friend and Javert, "my lips are sealed."

Carine dashed off towards her family's usual spot and Adelaide sighed staring after her friend.

"Oh great, everyone's going to know by the end of mass," Adelaide groaned.

"Now Addie, even Carine isn't _that _good," Léonard laughed taking her arm. "Come, mass is starting."

Adelaide walked with her father toward their usual spot, near the front of the church with the other elite. She couldn't help but look back towards Javert as he took his place in the back with those of low class.

Neither of them could stop smiling.

Mass this week was going to be _long_.

* * *

Had you asked Adelaide what the sermon had been about that week, she wouldn't have been able to answer. Throughout the entire service, Adelaide attempted to casually look back over at Javert, seeing if she could catch his eye. No doubt Javert was as inattentive to the sermon as her, as more often than not when Adelaide looked back, she would catch him looking back at her. With a smile plastered on her face, these encounters would result in Javert smiling back and nodding, or her averting her gaze as she blushed, pushed back a lock of hair and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Adelaide couldn't help but wonder if exchanging significant glances with a man during church service counted as a sin.

Still, it didn't stop her from doing it.

She tried not to look too eager when the priest said the final amen and the congregation began exited en masse.

"Do I look alright? How's my hair? Is my dress tight enough? Oh, maybe I should have worn the purple dress," Adelaide fidgeted as her father led her down the aisle, among the crowd, towards the exit.

"You're fine," Léonard scanned the crowd for Javert. "Honestly, I don't think you could get any more beautiful."

"You're my father," Adelaide rolled her eyes, blinking as they stepped outside and were blinded by the sudden bout of sunlight, "you _have _to say that."

"Doesn't make it any less true." Léonard zoned in on the assistant guard. "There he is, now's your chance."

Adelaide stopped and turned to face her father; they were a little more than a foot from her intended suitor, but her terror was setting in fast.

"I can't," Adelaide said.

"Can't what?" Léonard frowned

"I don't think I can do this," Adelaide confessed. "Think about it, it would never work. The class difference, his gruffness-"

Léonard took a look over to Javert, who had yet to spot the pair, and the Inspector sighed.

"Leave it to me to have to give you that one final shove," Léonard replied.

Adelaide's eyes flew wide, "You wouldn't."

Without any further warning, Léonard suddenly grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, spun her toward Javert, and quite literally shoved her toward the assistant guard.

Javert never saw it coming.

For the second time in two weeks, Javert found himself on the ground with the Chief Inspector's daughter.

"Pardon Monsieur!" Adelaide was flushed with embarrassment as Javert gathered his senses. "A thousand times pardon! My father… Well he decided I quite literally needed a push for encouragement."

"Oh no, allow me," Javert stood and offered his hand. "My only concern is if you were hurt."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm fine. I've had worse," Adelaide grasped Javert's hand and he helped her up. Brushing off her dress, Adelaide continued, "In fact I've had worse today, what with Carine LaFleur dragging me across the church yard and Eleanor Dubois crushing my hand into her son's. It's apparently manhandle Adelaide day."

"Well then, I hope I haven't _manhandled _you?" Javert smiled slightly.

"Are you… _Teasing _me?" Adelaide gasped in mock horror, though with some legitimate shock.

"Perhaps I've been spending too much time with you," Javert shrugged. "Though you never answered my question."

"You _might_ have manhandled me." Adelaide raised a brow, "But who said I was averse to such a thing?"

Javert stared at her for a minute, a small smile playing on his lips. Suddenly, catching sight of something behind her, his mouth dropped into a frown and he averted his gaze. Adelaide mirrored his frown and looked behind her: there was a myriad of people staring at the pair, most of whom were whispering and sending judgemental looks at socialization among such class differences. Catching sight of Carine among the crowd, Adelaide sent a pleading look, praying her friend could do something to mix the matter.

"Did you hear about Felicienne Lafontaine?" Carine asked aloud to no one in particular, distracting the nearby onlookers to give Javert and Adelaide a smidge of privacy.

For the second time that day, it paid for Adelaide to be best friends with the town gossip.

Adelaide cleared her throat, "There, dealt with."

"Tell your friend merci on my behalf," Javert lightly chuckled. "Now, what was I saying?"

"Something about us spending time together?" Adelaide played.

"Right, um," Javert averted his gaze, clearing his throat. "Well, I was thinking, that maybe…"

"Oui?" Adelaide softly pushed.

Javert took a deep breath, "Adelaide. Over the past two weeks we have interacted on several occasions. It is through these interactions that I have learned that you are not only a, a beautiful young woman, but a bright, caring, humorous, intelligent companion, and an extremely good cook…"

Adelaide waited for a moment before saying, "Merci Monsieur, but your point is?"

The assistant guard gathered his courage, and with his gaze affixed to the ground, continued, "You are the most enjoyable company I have ever kept, and I was wondering if… If I maybe I could keep company with you in a less sociable, more private fashion?"

Adelaide frowned, daring not to hope, "Meaning?"

Javert paused trying to think of the best words but somehow ended up just blurting out, "May I court you?"

Almost wincing, Javert dared to look up and met her eyes; a smile was playing on her lips.

"Monsieur-"

"Mademoiselle Adelaide!"

Without any warning, Adelaide suddenly found herself spun around, arm lifted and hand being kissing by a familiar face.

"Louis!" Adelaide tried to gather her senses.

Louis Bélanger was the result of when the richest man in town marries the prettiest women in town; and he was hoping for history to repeat itself. Handsome, respectable, rich, spoiled and stubborn, Louis was one of Adelaide's most aggressive suitors and seemed completely unable to take a hint. However, it was due to his well-known aggressive nature and ill-temper that Adelaide had never technically rejected Louis, and had no plans to until she was safely courting someone else. And that someone had to be someone who was not intimidated by Louis' wealth and status.

And lucky for her, she had her sights set on exactly that type of man.

"Mademoiselle Adelaide," Louis released her hand, "it is good I found you, I wanted to talk to you."

"It better be important," Adelaide crossed her arms, "I was in the middle of a conversation."

"Well I'm sure the rabble won't mind." Louis looked at Javert, "Would you excuse us?"

Javert clenched his fist to his side, but gave a bow and said through gritted teeth, "Of course."

"Not," Adelaide grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. The man gave her a confused frown, but she just looked at him, then back to the interrupter, "Of course not. _You _interrupted _our _conversation, so _you _don't get to tell _us _what to do."

"You know, you use the term_ us _quite freely," Louis said.

"Trust me, I don't," Adelaide glared, still gripping Javert's arm tightly. "Now what do you want? And it better be good or I swear I'm not responsible for my actions."

After seven years of putting up with the unwanted advances of Louis Bélanger, we can excuse Adelaide if she was a little rude… and slightly violent.

Louis frowned, looking between the Inspector's daughter and the assistant guard, especially where her hand was placed, "I was going to ask if you would like to accompany me home for Sunday luncheon and perhaps going for a ride afterward?"

Adelaide stared blankly at him, "You interrupted by conversation to ask me to lunch?"

"Yes," Louis nodded, self-assured.

The Inspector's daughter looked up at Javert.

"Let me at him," she released his arm, only for Javert to quickly pull her back.

Louis looked at the Inspector's daughter and her companion, a fake smiled plastered on his face, almost like he had a mental block covering Javert from view. He barely considered the guard human, given his standing, so he thought no threat on the part of the gypsy bastard, but he did worry about Adelaide's feelings, she was a wildcard.

"Mademoiselle Enjolras," Louis barely took in the fact that Javert was the only thing holding Adelaide back, "for years we have danced over the delicate subject of courtship, and you have negated any form of rejection. Therefore I believe there is only one way to deal with this situation; to ask you plainly. Adelaide Jacqueline Enjolras, may I have the honour of courting you?"

Javert let go of her arm.

"Louis," Adelaide frowned. "I-"

"Now, before you say anything, I have something for you," Louis reached into his pocket and held out his hand to Adelaide.

"Mon Dieu," Adelaide whispered.

Sitting in his palm was a silver locket with the word _Adelaide_ engraved on the front.

"It's real silver, and look," Louis opened the locket, "I had a miniature portrait of you done for it."

Adelaide stared at the necklace and the miniature of her reflection gazing up at her. It was beautiful… and expensive. She was entranced by it; maybe she had been too harsh on him, after all how many guys would have something so beautiful and expensive made just for her with no guarantee that she would make any commitments to them? Maybe she-

Javert cleared his throat.

"I guess I should leave the two of you," Javert tried to withhold the disappointment from his voice. He bowed to the two of them, "Monsieur Bélanger. Mademoiselle Enjolras."

Adelaide looked wide eyed between the two of them.

"Wait!"

Javert stopped dead in his tracks.

Adelaide turned to her gift giver and said, "Louis, it is a wonderful gift, and lunch would be nice, but…"

"But?" Louis asked, still holding out the necklace.

Adelaide took a deep breath, "But I'm already courting someone else."

Louis eyes went wide, "You are?"

"You are?" Javert repeated, how did he not know she was courting someone?

"Yes," Adelaide placed a hand on Javert's arm and smiled. "I am."

As the implication of her words dawned upon Javert, a smile formed upon his face and then he gently took her arm in his like he had the day he walked her home.

Louis just stared at the pair in shock, hand snapping shut over the necklace, "The gypsy bastard? You choose _him? _I thought the rumors were just the product of that gossiping little snit being bored."

The Inspector's daughter placed a gentle hand upon the formation of her suitor's clenched fist, willing him not to lose her temper, nor for her to lose her own.

Adelaide glared at Louis, ignoring the whispers and pointing caused by her holding the arm of Javert and proclaiming him as her suitor, "Calling my best friend a snit, isn't going to help anything, and calling my suitor a gypsy bastard, isn't going to change his status… Being my suitor, that is."

"And you call me a status chaser," Louis jeered at Adelaide, shoving the necklace back into his pocket while glaring at Javert, a gaze that was mirrored.

"I'm not chasing after a status," Javert coolly replied.

Louis laughed, "Oh, I think you're chasing after something quite different."

"And _I _think it's time for you to go," a strong hand clasped his shoulder.

Louis turned and was met face to face with none other than Léonard Enjolras himself.

"Oh, _there you are Père,_" Adelaide smirked, tucking herself further into Javert, who was looking quite proud and pleased.

"Oui, Darling, and I see everything went fine you two," Léonard's hand was still clasping Louis' shoulder.

"Oh, definitely," Adelaide grinned looking up at Javert, who smiled at her.

"Monsieur Javert," Léonard said, and the assistant guard looked to his beloved's father. "Would you like to join us for lunch? Adelaide always makes too much."

"I get it, Père," Adelaide groaned, "I'll work on portion control."

"Nonsense," Léonard shook his head, "better too much than not enough. So, Javert, what do you say?"

"Only if you could put up Gymont," Javert replied, "we weren't planning on any stopovers, and thus are unprepared."

"Of course, your horse can stay in the stable with Philippe," Léonard chuckled. "Why don't you and Adelaide go get them?"

"Oui, Monsieur." Javert turned to Adelaide, "Shall we?"

Adelaide smiled radiantly at Javert, "We shall."

With that, Adelaide and Javert turned and began to walk arm and arm toward the stable not far off from the church, where Monsieur LeBeau generously stabled some of the congregation's horses during mass. The pair was met with many points and whispers, but they didn't care, they were just happy to be together.

"At least he'll be off the damn whistling," Gérard Chevalier muttered to his wife as the pair passed.

"Well, Maman," Jérémie and his mother watched the pair walk by, "there goes the last high status woman in this town."

Eleanor sighed heavily, "Fine, you can be with Mademoiselle LaFleur."

"Merci, Maman," Jérémie kissed his mother on the cheek and dashed off into the crowd, no doubt looking for Carine.

Léonard walked up to the widow and patted her on the shoulder, watching as Jérémie shared the news with his beloved, "Kids."

Eleanor shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips, "Tell me about it."

* * *

"It's called a wedding ring?" Adelaide asked, observing the jeweled band on Carine's finger.

"Oui, they're all the rage these days," the new Madame Dubois beamed, trying to find the best light to make the ring glitter. "You've never heard of them?"

"Well, I know about love tokens," Adelaide replied. "And my father gave my mother a ring as a token for their engagement-"

"Oh, the silver band with the sapphire and the two small diamonds on either side?" Carine asked.

Adelaide frowned in confusion, "You know about my mother's ring?"

"Cherie, I know about everything in this town," Carine patted her friend's arm. "Speaking of, have you heard? The butcher is sleeping with the baker's wife."

Adelaide rolled her eyes, "So how was England?"

"Beautiful, it was a wonderful honeymoon, but we'll talk about that later," Carine waved off. "Non, what _I _want to talk about is when I'll be walking down the aisle again."

Adelaide frowned and cocked her head, "Didn't you just marry Jérémie last month? Mon Dieu! There's nothing wrong with him, is there?"

"Non, non," Carine reassured, "Jérémie is fine. Non, what I was talking about is when do I get to walk down the aisle as your bridesmaid?"

Adelaide flushed and looked to the ground, "Mon Dieu, Carine, you have no tact."

"And you, Adelaide, spend too much time with Monsieur Javert. You're dodging my eye worse than him in a confession box," Carine laughed. "Now come on, tell me, you've been courting since April, surely he's made his intentions clear by now?"

"Carine, he hasn't even kissed me yet," Adelaide replied, "he certainly hasn't made clear any intentions."

"Really?" Carine frowned. "After eight months, he_ still_ hasn't kissed you? Huh, maybe he doesn't have those intentions."

Adelaide gritted her teeth, "He's kissed me on the hand and the cheek-"

"Oh, don't let your father find out," Carine sarcastically cut off.

"He has intentions!" Adelaide snapped, and then paused. "... I think. He's just very strict when it comes to propriety."

Carine smirked, "Must drive you insane."

"Oh, Dieu, _all the time_," Adelaide laughed. "But I l-like him, and I'm sure he reciprocates those feelings, so we'll have to see."

"Well, maybe I'll have a talk with him at the Renault New Year's ball next week," Carine replied, smiling at her friend's stumble over the word like. "He's attending, oui?"

"Oui," Adelaide frowned, "but if you do talk to him about this, I make no promise not to break every bone in your arm."

"Ҫa craint that your father is the Chief Inspector," Carine crossed her arms, Léonard had taught Adelaide self-defence at a young age.

"And ҫa craint that your father is the town physician and could set that arm before my point is made," Adelaide smirked.

Carine grinned and shook her head, "We're insane, aren't we?"

Adelaide laughed, "All the best people are. Now, allez, tell me about England."

* * *

Knock, knock.

"Entrer," Léonard called, not looking up from his paperwork as his reading glasses sat perched on the end of his nose. The only thing worse about being Chief Inspector than the socialization was the paperwork.

The door clicked open and Léonard glanced up.

"Javert," he frowned as his daughter's suitor bowed, the assistant guard holding his hat to his side.

"Bonjour Inspector Enjolras," Javert greeted. "I know you're still on duty, but I was wondering if I may speak with you for a minute?"

"Of course, take a seat," Léonard gestured to the seat across from his desk.

"Merci," Javert slightly bowed again before taking his seat.

Léonard removed his reading glasses, folded them up and shoved both glasses and paperwork into the top drawer of his desk. His office, and precinct in general, wasn't the tidiest, though it still ran rather efficiently.

"So," Léonard turned back to the assistant guard, "what do you wish to speak about?"

"Your daughter, Monsieur," Javert looked down.

Léonard frowned, "If you're letting her go, I suggest you declare these intentions to her, and not I, less you wish to maintain the ability to produce children."

Javert laughed, "It is nothing of the sort."

"Then what is it?" Léonard asked.

"Well, as you know, Adelaide and I-"

"If I already know it, why are you telling me it?"

Javert blinked, "Fair enough. Monsieur, your daughter is the most amazing woman I have ever met, and these past eight months have been pure heaven. But I fear, I am not able to maintain my current relationship with your daughter."

"And why's that?" Léonard frowned.

"Because I wish for her as my own," Javert confessed, "exclusively."

Léonard's brows knitted together, "Monsieur, what are you saying?"

"Monsieur, I respect you highly, and your daughter even more so," Javert replied. "Therefore, I am here to seek your permission to ask your daughter for her hand. And I know, it's probably the same answer as when I wished to court her, that if she gives me her permission, I receive yours, but etiquette dictates that I ask you first. And more importantly, Monsieur, I ask you for your permission, because I genuinely wish to receive your approval to take your daughter as my wife."

Léonard sat there, hands folded, staring at the younger man, saying nothing.

"Do you know what my wife's maiden name was?" Léonard suddenly asked.

Javert blinked in confusion, "Uh, non, Monsieur."

"Astier," Léonard replied. "Do you have a token to present to my daughter?"

Javert frowned, not following the line of questioning so much that he didn't even look away with embarrassment, "Unfortunately not, but I'm hoping to save enough money to present her with one by the time we wed. Not to mention, I do have a home, and a horse, and a steady profession to provide for your daughter, were we to marry."

"Uh huh," Léonard nodded. The Inspector suddenly stood and walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room. Fetching a key from the ring on his belt, he opened the top drawer and began rummaging through it. "My daughter told me that you have an interest in stars, correct?"

"In an astronomical way," Javert replied knowing his mother's reputation, "nothing to do with divination."

"Uh huh," Léonard nodded. "You know, I was once in your position, sweating my way through a father's summation of myself as son-in-law material. Now I'm not one hundred percent sure if it's true, but my wife, Jacqueline, told me told me that her last name, Astier, came from the root word of aster, which means star. So when my daughter told me that the man she was courting had an interest in stars, I said to myself, now that can't be a coincidence."

"Monsieur?" Javert frowned, utterly confused.

"Jacqueline Astier," Léonard withdrew a small box from the drawer, shut the drawer and returned to his seat. "You know what helped me win her?"

"Non, Monsieur," Javert replied.

"This token," Léonard opened the box to reveal a small silver ring.

"It's impressive Monsieur," Javert swallowed, it was but another reminder of things he could not provide for Adelaide. Louis Bélanger had not given up on his chase for Adelaide, and while she always turned the man down, Javert had seen that locket one too many times for his liking in the past eight months.

"That's real silver, a mid-clarity blue sapphire, and two small diamonds, the karats of which I'm not going to mention. See, I wasn't always as well off as now." Léonard withdrew the ring from the box and turned it to show Javert the inside of the band behind the stones, "But what showed her father I was serious, was this."

Engraved on the inside of the ring were the letters J A, inside the shape of a heart.

"See, it stood for Jacqueline Astier, but now it can stand for something else," Léonard returned the ring to its box. "It can stand for Javert and Adelaide. Now, I know your first name is Gabriel, but still, it's a nice sentiment. So if you want to marry my daughter, promise me just one thing."

"Anything," Javert nodded.

"Promise to love her, to protect her, to provide for her," Léonard set the box in front of Javert. "And most importantly, promise me that you'll give her, her mother's ring."

Javert carefully took the box and looked at the ring, absolutely in disbelief that Léonard would entrust something so important to his family, to the assistant guard, "I promise Monsieur."

"Now, come on," Léonard laughed, "enough of this Monsieur business. We're going to be family soon; you don't have to call me Père or anything like that, but at least call me Léonard."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Javert smiled, "she hasn't said oui yet."

"Oh, she will," Léonard replied. "Now, do you have any idea how you're going to propose?"

* * *

"I can't believe my father actually did that," Adelaide laughed as she and Javert were finally able to sneak off during the Renault New Year's ball, back to the spot where they had stargazed back in April. "I mean Louis was a little out of line trying to cut in on you dancing with me, but did Père really have to twist his arm behind his back?"

"Your father is a little extreme," Javert shook his head, remembering the look on Bélanger's face when the Chief Inspector had suddenly grabbed him from behind.

"A _little_?" Adelaide scoffed.

"Besides," Javert continued, "everyone knows that he's been attempting to court, what is it? Mademoiselle Gillenormand in Paris?"

Adelaide laughed, "Alright, you have been spending far too much time with Carine LaFleur, I mean Dubois. Am I ever going to get used to saying that?"

"Well, change is something that takes time to get used to," Javert felt the outline of the ring box in his pocket. "Remember our first night out here together?"

"Oui," Adelaide sighed, tucking herself into his arms and looking up at the sky, "and you showed me how to find Polaris. It's that one right?"

Javert laughed, wrapped an arm around her waist and adjusted her arm with the other, "That one, Darling."

"Oh, right," Adelaide sighed contently staring at the star, lowering her arm as Javert wrapped his other arm around her waist.

It was peaceful.

"Javert?" Adelaide asked using the name he had requested she call him as he didn't like the reminder of his mother's influence on his life associated with his given name.

"Oui, Adelaide?" Javert replied unbroken from his reverence, gazing up at the stars, thanking God for this gift he had been given.

"Are you _ever _going to kiss me?"

_That _pulled Javert from his reverence.

"Pardon?" Javert looked at her wide eyed, grip around her waist slackening.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?" Adelaide repeated, fiddling with her decorative hand fan. "I know that in public company, it isn't proper, but in private company, like now…"

Javert released the girl, looking away and clearing his throat, "Well, you see… The thing is… That I…"

Oh screw it, it was now or never.

"It would not be proper given our current relationship," Javert answered.

"Oh," Adelaide looked away, dropping her hand fan to her side.

"So I guess it's a good thing that I wish to change our relationship," Javert continued.

Adelaide's head snapped back, "Monsieur?"

Breathing deeply, Javert gently took her hand, and bent to the ground on one knee, "Adelaide Jacqueline Enjolras, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Javert," Adelaide gasped. "I- I- I-"

She jumped on him.

"Oui! Oui! Oui!" It was only when they were both clattered on the ground that Adelaide was able to collect herself, "Oui, Monsieur, I will become your wife."

"Here," Javert withdrew the ring box from his coat, "your father wanted me to give this to you."

"Mère's ring," Adelaide gasped at the sight.

Javert removed the ring from the box, "May I?"

"Oui," she nodded. Gently he placed it upon the third finger of her left hand and it slid on perfectly. "It fits."

"Oui, it does," Javert smiled.

Adelaide stared at him, beaming for a few minutes before she finally said, "We should probably stand up now."

Javert laughed as they stood up and brushed the dust from their clothes, "For all the time I've spent learning etiquette, I have no idea how to properly respond now."

"Well," Adelaide coyly smiled, "perhaps it's proper now for a kiss?"

Javert looked thoughtful, "Oui… I think it is."

Adelaide leaned in, ready to seal her engagement with a kiss when suddenly…

"Addie!"

Carine came bolting down the stairs.

"Pardon, Monsieur," Jérémie called to Javert, trailing after his wife. "I tried to hold her back as long as possible."

"That's alright," Javert shook his head as Carine pounced upon her friend demanding a view of the ring, "you did your best."

"Pardon," Carine smiled sheepishly, "but it's almost midnight, and engagement or not, you are not missing the turning of the decade. Who knows? You may not see the next one."

"Now let's not be ridiculous," Jérémie laughed, "everyone knows that Adelaide's going to be alive and kicking long after the rest of us are gone."

"Merci for the concern, Carine," Adelaide laughed, "but I think that I'd like to just spend some time out here with Javert."

Carine blinked at her, "Nope, not going to happen. Come on!"

With that the physician's daughter grabbed Adelaide's arm and pulled her back up the stairs.

Jérémie and Javert just stared at the girls as Adelaide tried to struggle away, but the small blonde refused to give.

"It's a challenge some days," Jérémie said to Javert, "but _so _worth it."

"I can imagine," Javert nodded. "Shall we?"

"Oui," Jérémie replied and the two men started up the stairs, "I'd better pry my wife off your fiancée."

By the time they got inside, Adelaide had managed to get away from Carine, but unfortunately that meant Javert had a hard time locating her. It wasn't until almost the time to start counting down that someone suddenly grabbed him and pulled him behind a pillar.

"Got you," Adelaide smirked. "Now, I believe you owe me a kiss."

Javert pulled at his collar and looked around, "But everyone will see, it's not proper-"

"Forget propriety. All I know is I can't end the year not knowing what it's like to kiss you," Adelaide replied.

Javert glanced around, "But still, I can't do it with them all staring."

The Inspector's daughter smirked at her fiancé, "Well how about this?"

Adelaide flicked open her fan and turned it toward the crowd so that their faces were hidden from view.

"Better?" Adelaide asked.

"Much better," Javert smiled, gently pulling her towards him.

As he placed his lips upon hers for the first time, the crowd counted down from ten, their kiss lasting long past one and the cheers of Bonne Année.

They ended the year 1809 with a kiss, and began 1810 with the same.

Finally they had found love.

* * *

On April 4, 1810, the highest coveted wedding spot of the year, being the first Wednesday in April, in her blue Sunday best (as was the fashion for weddings at the time) Mademoiselle Adelaide Jacqueline Enjolras became Madame Adelaide Jacqueline Javert.

And she couldn't be happier.

Javert on the other hand was terrified.

It wasn't that he was unhappy; on the contrary, it was one of the happiest days of his life.

He just didn't need everyone constantly reminding him of the "husbandly duties" he had to perform later that night.

"Just remember, Javert," Carine giggled, clearly having had one too many toasts to her best friend's marriage, "to undo Adelaide's dress it's decorative ribbon, then the buttons, then the laces, then just removed the layers."

He wasn't even going to ask how she knew that.

"Alright Sweetheart, why don't you go talk to Adelaide for a little while?" Jérémie ushered his wife toward the bride. Once she was safely out of sight, he sighed, "Pardon Monsieur, she can get a little uncensored when she's had too many."

"Non, that's alright," Javert looked away.

Jérémie looked him over, "You shouldn't be worried. Yes, she's going to be in a bit of pain at first, but it'll get much better. Just remember, if you take care of her, she'll take care of you."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable discussing this," Javert bluntly said.

"Fair enough," Jérémie shrugged. "I just thought I'd say it, it didn't seem like you had anyone to talk with about it. Well, who wasn't completely drunk."

"Merci," Javert nodded. "And merci for being the best man, I don't really have any male friends-"

"I thought we were friends," Jérémie cut off.

Javert paused thoughtfully, "I guess we are. I've never really had one before."

"Well, you're stuck with us now," Jérémie laughed. "Now, where has that wife of mine gone off to?"

No sooner had he said it than Adelaide appeared dragging an overly intoxicated Carine behind her, "I believe this is yours."

"Pardon," Jérémie smiled meekly taking a hold of his wife, "we should be heading off soon."

"Oh, speaking of," Adelaide turned to her new husband, "Père says Gymont is ready, so we can head off any time now."

"Oh," Javert rubbed his neck awkwardly, "perhaps we could stay a while longer?"

"At least long enough for me to have a dance with the bride?"

Everyone whipped around (with the minor expectation of Carine, who was turned by Jérémie) to see none other than Louis Bélanger with his hands held up in defence.

"Don't worry, I'm not up to anything," Louis said cautiously, "married women aren't my thing and I'm courting Felicienne Lafontaine anyway."

Adelaide frowned as Javert held her arm protectively, "What happened to Mademoiselle Gillenormand in Paris?"

Carine drunkenly snorted, "Dropped him for some Bonaparte Colonel named Georges Pontmercy."

Louis frowned, "Great, even drunk she gossips non-stop. But oui, I was dropped for some no status charmer, but it's something I'm used to it by now. Look, I'm sorry for my little scene at church last year, and I'd say I'm sorry for New Year's, but I think your father punished me enough then. No hard feelings?"

He extended his hand hopefully and both bride and groom glared at it.

"How about we settle on truce, and a fresh start?" Adelaide suggested coolly.

"I'll take what I can get," Louis shook each of their hands. "And, look, I know this is probably inappropriate, but I spent a few amount of money on it, and since it's custom made, I can't return it, so, I was wondering if I may gave this to the two of you as a wedding present?"

Louis reached into his pocket and produced the silver locket he had once tried to buy Adelaide's courtship with.

"Oh, Louis," Adelaide looked at Javert uncertainly, "I don't know what to say?"

Javert stared at the necklace and sighed, "Merci Monsieur, but we accept it as a sign of friendship."

"That's all I ask," Louis handed the necklace to the groom, who slipped it into his coat pocket. "Well, Felicienne is waiting. Bonne nuit, and Javert?"

Javert locked eyes with the man.

"Bonne chance," Louis winked.

"I still don't like him," Carine hiccupped once Bélanger had disappeared.

"At least you got a pretty nice necklace out of it," Jérémie shrugged.

"You're alright with accepting it, right?" Adelaide asked her husband.

Javert groaned, "It has no indication it's from him on it, and it is very nice-"

"And expensive!" Carine cut in.

"And expensive," Javert sighed. "I'll be fine, besides, we don't want to be rude and put him out of all the money."

"And it goes with our rings," Adelaide tapped the silver band on Javert's finger. It had once been Léonard's wedding ring, and since he had been widowed for now over twenty-four years, Léonard had decided to pass it on to his son-in-law.

"There are two are," Léonard approached the group. "Come on, it's getting late, you two should be heading off."

"Oh, we'll stay and help see the guests home," Adelaide replied.

"Non, non, moi Chérie," Léonard shook his head, "tonight's your night… as much as I try not to think about it. Speaking from experience, you two have a… ugh, _long _night ahead of you."

As Léonard tried desperately not to think of what the assistant guard was going to do to his daughter that night, Adelaide swore that Javert actually blushed.

"S'il vous plaît, Père," Adelaide insisted, "we can stay."

"Nope," Léonard shook his head, "Jérémie and I can deal with everyone."

Jérémie's head whipped up, "But-"

Léonard locked his eye.

"Fine," Jérémie sighed.

"But Père-"

"Adelaide, I swear if you object one more time, I'm going to literally push you out the door," Léonard warned.

"Père-"

And that was how Adelaide and Javert literally was shoved out of Léonard Enjolras' house on their wedding night.

* * *

"Here we are," Javert announced to his bride, whose head was resting on his back.

"What?" Adelaide blinked blearily. The soothing trot of Javert's horse, as well as having her arms wrapped around his torso and head resting on his shoulder, combined with having woken early that morning, had lulled her asleep.

"This is my home," Javert replied. "Well, _our _home now. Here, let me help you down."

As Javert hopped off the horse and helped her down, struggling with the impediment of her being in a dress and trying not to think of all the innuendos he had heard that night, Adelaide took a look around her new home.

It was a lot smaller than her four bedroom maiden home, and she dared might even think that Javert built it himself. The small brown house had a small chimney peeking from the roof and two or three windows visible from Adelaide's current position. She remembered Javert having told her that the whole house only consisted of two bedrooms and one large main room that combined a kitchen, dining room and living room. Javert had no stables, but three tall trees that blocked a small area from view of the main rode, and in the area was a pole to tie Gymont to and a trough for food and water. The lawn was a mixture of limp grass and short weeds, a small stone path lead up to the house and a round black rock wall stood the border of the home and came up just past Adelaide's waist. Off in the distance she could see the Bagne of Toulon, and the path leading from the Bagne that all the freed prisoners had to walk down came right by the house, hence the reason for the wall and trees blocking the horse from view.

It was quaint.

"It's perfect," Adelaide smiled looking around her new home as Javert tied up Gymont and returned to her.

"Merci," Javert smiled, he had been nervous that she wouldn't like it, but he had worked hard to build this home for himself, and more recently, to make it welcome for his bride. "Unfortunately during the day you can hear the prisoners' work song, and the roof leaks in the main bedroom when it rains."

"So," Adelaide looked nervously at the ground, "in _our _room?"

Javert too looked away, "Oui, in our room."

It was nice to hear the crickets.

"Mon Dieu," Adelaide gasped.

"What is it?" Javert asked, glancing around to see what had displeased his wife.

"The stars," Adelaide was looking up at the clearest night sky she had ever seen, "they're beautiful."

Javert smiled, "That's why I picked to live here. Come."

Taking her hand, Javert led her toward a part in the black stone wall where it slopped down slightly, leaving something like a seat room enough for two.

"May I?" Javert asked his bride.

"May you what?" Adelaide frowned.

Without any further warning, Javert suddenly scooped her up and placed her upon the stone seat, steadying her as she laughed.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that," she said as Javert hopped up next to her.

"I'm just full of surprises," Javert grinned teasingly.

"Yes you are," Adelaide laid her head on his shoulder. "Wow, you really can see the stars out here; they're so beautiful and mysterious."

"Oui, they are," Javert stroked her hair. "Stars, in their multitudes, scare to be counted, filling the darkness with order and light. They are the sentinels, silent and sure, keeping watch in the night."

"Keeping watch in the night," Adelaide repeated, mesmerized by her husband's voices while they watched the stars.

"It just astounds me how they know their place in the sky, hold their course and their aim," Javert continued. "And in each season returns and returns, and is always the same."

"We should pick a star," Adelaide said.

Javert looked at her, "Pardon."

"We should pick a star," Adelaide turned to him, "make it our star, swear our love on it, and know every time we see it that there's someone out there who loves us unconditionally and forever. We should swear it on Polaris."

Javert chuckled, "You can't claim a star."

"Well, I just did," Adelaide smirked. "Come on, swear it. Swear you'll always love me."

Javert smiled and shook his head, she was a little odd, but the two of them made up a pair of odd ducks.

"Alright," he laughed, "I swear it."

"By the stars," Adelaide pushed.

"I swear it by the stars," Javert vowed, unknowing that from then on his strongest of vows would be sworn by the stars and ergo his love for Adelaide.

"Now," she whispered, "kiss me."

In those days, when a man would wed a woman, there would be no "you may now kiss the bride" as it was assumed that all knew the bride was the property of the groom, and he would not need to express his claim. As such, Javert and Adelaide had not yet shared their first kiss as husband and wife, and now it was time.

Javert leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, just as soft and chaste as the ones they had shared in the past four months.

And that wasn't enough for Adelaide tonight.

She poured everything it the kiss, pulled him in deep, weaving her hand into his hair, kissing long and hungrily. When she finally pulled away, Javert attempted to recapture her lips before she got too far, and the two of them sat there panting, just staring at each other.

"And _that, _I swear by the stars," Adelaide whispered.

He grabbed her and pulled her into their most passionate kiss yet.

* * *

Hours later she lay in his bed blissfully sleeping, covered with nothing but a sheet and her husband's warm form. Her breathing was steady as she peacefully slept back facing her husband, exhausted from the long day, the wine from toasting her marriage, and their bout of lovemaking.

Javert was still awake, sure he was tired, but he didn't want to miss a moment of being with her. Gently he stroked his thumb across her bare arm. Hesitating for a moment, he carefully placed a soft kiss upon her shoulder, then her neck, her cheek and finally on her forehead. He frowned as she stirred slightly, but nothing came of it but her turning to face her husband and snuggling into Javert contently.

And he thanked God that he decided to go to that market on that day so long ago.

* * *

On the evening of April 24, 1811, Javert paced.

He paced back. He paced forth. He paced so much that he threatened to wear a groove in the floor. He was so focused on his pacing that he never saw the book coming until it hit him smack in the head.

"Knock it off!" Léonard snapped, grabbing another book from the bookshelf behind him, one of the few things Adelaide had brought into the home when she wed Javert. "If you keep doing that you're going to wreck the floor, now sit!"

Javert looked over at his father-in-law, he really didn't want to sit, but he also didn't want to get hit in the head with another book.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous," Javert took the second chair by the hearth. It was the one that usually he and Adelaide would sit in as she tried to convince him that reading for leisure was fun. He usually did it more so for the fact that she would sit in his lap as they were supposed to read together, with him focusing on her and her swatting away any wandering hands as she tried to pay attention to the story.

Sometimes she won.

But sometimes she lost.

"You have no need to be nervous," Léonard waved off, "Adelaide is a strong girl, and everything's gone right so far."

"It's just her mother-"

"Look, son," Léonard leaned in toward Javert. "Don't get me wrong, I love Adelaide's mother very much, but she was a weakling. It was just irresponsible for me to get her pregnant in the first place, but even in my sorrow, I was given the greatest gift of my life."

"I just," Javert sighed, "I don't know if I could do this without her."

Léonard frowned, "So that's it? You think you can't do this."

"I had no real parent growing up," Javert replied, "my father's on for lifetime imprisonment, and my mother's God knows where, living a life of sin. I have no one."

"Come now, surely your mother wasn't that bad."

"Which do you want to hear about? The palm reading or the prostitution?"

"Oh," Léonard watched as Javert gazed into the fire as it flicked shadows across the cold dark floors lit by only the faint glow of the moon.

Their silence was broken suddenly by a groan of pain coming from the bedroom. The two of them had long passed the point that Javert would struggle against the Inspector, trying to get into the bedroom at every moan and groan of pain Adelaide emitted.

It had been hours.

"How do I be a father?" Javert asked gazing at the flames. "You're the only one I can ask, so tell me, how do I be a father?"

"Well," Léonard scratched his chin, "it comes down to being able to compromise."

"Compromise?" Javert frowned looking up at his father-in-law.

"You have to learn how to balance giving personal freedoms, while enforcing fundamental moral values," Léonard instructed. "It never goes the same way for every father and child, but you have to learn to work with the child, but still remaining the authoritative figure. But at the core of it, you must remember that man, or woman, should not live in their father's shadow. They are their own person, free to make their own mistakes and choices. But don't worry, the second they are first placed in your arms, then you'll know you can do this."

Whatever reply Javert had thought of was lost to time, as the moment he opened his mouth, he was cut off with the piercing scream of an infant taking its first breath.

Javert's eyes shot open, "Is that-"

Léonard smiled, "Congratulations, you're a father."

Shooting up out of his seat, Javert stood in front of the bedroom door as the minutes ticked by, waiting, wondering, and most importantly, hoping.

The door opened.

Renée LaFleur, mother to the infamous gossip Carine, and the town's midwife, came out humming.

"Well?" Javert choked out as she met his eyes.

"Both mother and child are healthy and happy," Renée reported. "You can see them now, but go easy, they need their rest."

Javert dumbly nodded, took a deep breath, and gently pushed up the door.

His first sight of Adelaide, breathless from delivery while beamed brightly at the bundle in her arms, was one of the most beautiful one he had ever seen.

Adelaide, sensing her husband's presence, looked up from the infant, "Hey."

"Hey," Javert laughed, she was acting as if she hadn't just gone through eight hours of labour. "How are you doing?"

"Sore, tired, and in absolute ecstasy," Adelaide sighed happily. "Do you want to see him?"

Javert blinked, "It's a boy?"

"A strapping young boy, like his Papa," Adelaide beamed at their son as Javert slowly approached the bed and took a seat next to his wife and child. Adelaide never moved her eyes from the infant but scooted closer to her husband, "Mon amour, this is your Papa. Do you want to hold him?"

Javert went wide eyed, "I'm not sure-"

"Oh, come on," Adelaide carefully handed off the infant to Javert. "Mind his head."

Javert smiled as he looked upon his son, Léonard was right, he _could _do this.

"_I think," _the voice in the back of his head said.

There was a faint tapping on the door, and Léonard stuck his head in, "May I come in?"

"Of course," Adelaide called, and her father entered the room. "It's a boy."

"And you're both alright?" Léonard asked. Adelaide nodded and Léonard smiled, "That's my girl. How are you holding up, son?"

"Terrified," Javert answered.

"As you should be," Léonard clapped a hand on his son-in-law's shoulder, being careful not to jolt the baby. "It sounded like the kid has a set of lungs on him, no doubt he'll be a good public speaker."

"We'll see, Père," Adelaide rolled her eyes and looked at her son lovingly.

"So," Léonard asked, "what is the name of this grandson of mine?"

Adelaide and Javert smiled at each other, and she nodded to her husband.

Javert proudly announced, "His name is Sébastien Léonard Javert."

Léonard beamed, "Now there's a name."

It would be many years before Sébastien would forsake his birth name and took the title of his mother's maiden name and build a barricade under the name of Enjolras.

But for now we shall call him Sébastien.

* * *

Read and review.


	3. 1815 - Like Any Other Family

Sorry about the long author's note last chapter, and I will be following the request of one reader to cut down on the length of my author's notes, however they will remain at the top of the chapter with the story starting after the cut.

Oh, and just before we start, I was asked how to pronounce Léonard, and just for everyone, it's pronounced like Leonardo (as in Da Vinci) but without the o, not Leonard like the character from The Big Bang Theory. And because I've been asked multiple times so far, yes there will be an Éponine/Enjolras relationship that is a key point of the story, but this is mostly about the father/son relationship of Javert and Enjolras, and I've worked hard to make the Enjonine side of this story believable. Just wait and see where I take it before you decide to stop reading, because I've hopefully portrayed a realistic way that a relationship could form between the two of them.

* * *

My Father's Shadow

Chapter Three

Like Any Other Family

* * *

There is no such thing as a perfect life. As a man who spent the first sixteen years of his life sleeping on the ground every night, Javert knew that all too well. But he had to admit, over the past four years, Javert had come pretty close to achieving a perfect life. Now, don't get me wrong, life wasn't perfect, the Javert family had its bad days what with illness and arguments like any other family, but it was a charmed life.

However, there was one thing Javert really wanted that he couldn't get: a job on the police force. About three months after the birth of Sébastien, Javert had plucked up the courage to approach his father-in-law with the idea of joining the police force. Unfortunately, it turned out that Javert could have Adelaide _or _a job with the police, but notboth. Citing the reason that it would lead to accusations of favoritism and nepotism, Léonard gently and reluctantly dashed Javert's dreams of police work. He took it in stride and continued to put all his efforts into work at the Bagne, but it was clear Javert had outgrown the job of shepherding and containing wrongdoers. He needed the thrill of the chase and the taste of the catch, _not _dealing with its leftovers.

Sensing his assistant's displeasure, Chevalier had unofficially promoted Javert and began entrusting him with important tasks like serving parolees their papers, and escorting newcomers from their current holdings to the Bagne. Yet with all his efforts, Chevalier knew that sooner or later, he _was _going to lose his best officer. He would have promoted Javert officially in a heartbeat, but there simply wasn't an open position that an assistant to the guard could progress to. But Javert couldn't complain, he had a good job, loving wife, a son who practically idolized him, and altogether as close to a perfect life as he could get.

And then on October 10, 1815, everything changed.

Javert started the day by waking up to an empty bed. This was nothing new; Adelaide was an early riser, preferring to get the morning chores started as soon as possible. Usually by the time Javert woke, his wife had dressed, woken Sébastien, dressed the boy, made his bed, laid out her husband's uniform, and gotten breakfast on the table. By no means did Javert treat his wife like a maid (their four year old son was another story), it was just simply the type of work expected of a woman in those days, and Adelaide had no problem fitting with that particular societal norm. That wasn't to say that Javert didn't help Adelaide around the house, it was just that she had her morning routine and a habit of smacking her husband in the arm if he got in the way.

On that morning Javert experienced that strange phenomenon when the subconscious is so content with their life at hand, that they simply wake up happy. This phenomenon was one Javert experienced very rarely throughout the course of his entire life, but was a regular occurrence in the six years after Adelaide had entered into his life as a significant figure.

And it would be a long time after that particular morning before he experienced it again.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Javert got out of bed and opened the window. The roof may leak, but Javert and Adelaide's bedroom got surprisingly stuffy. Upon opening the window, a gust of chilly air poured into the room, carrying with it the faint groaning rhythm of the prisoners' work song. It was going to be a hard day on the prisoners, but hopefully no one would pull any funny business.

Quickly stripping off his night clothes and changing into his uniform waiting ready for him on the chair, Javert absentmindedly began whistling along to the work song. It was a habit Javert had developed over the years, a sign of him being content, though he was careful not to do it in front of Chevalier, who, if possible, had only become grumpier over the years.

Speaking of Chevalier…

Javert frowned as he began his morning chore of making the bed, he was concerned over a certain piece of news that Chevalier had shared with him yesterday. As part of serving prisoners their parole papers, Javert was informed the day before as to who was up for parole that morning, and he was met with an unhappy surprise.

After nineteen years of imprisonment, today they would release 24601.

And Javert was _**so **_looking forward to that.

After all, everyone knows that releasing a violent repeat offender who had personally injured your father-in-law, down a road that led right up to your home containing your wife and four year old son, was a very relaxing and positive thought.

He was getting too old for this, and he was only thirty-five.

Giving the blankets one last tug, Javert stepped back to check over the bed, and, satisfied with his work, he exited the bedroom into the main room, whistling the whole way.

Adelaide looked up from the small area sectioned off to be a kitchen, "Are you whistling the work song again?"

"It's catchy," Javert shrugged.

Adelaide just smiled and lightly shook her head, "Add that to the list of words I never thought you'd use."

Javert scoffed, "Have we really been married so long that I don't even get a proper good morning? Just moving straight into the mocking now, are we?"

"Mon Amour, if you want a proper good morning," Adelaide smirked, "why don't you come get one?"

Javert raised a brow, "Don't mind if I do."

With surprising speed, Adelaide found herself pressed against the counter, her husband's arms locked around her waist and his lips pressed hungrily against hers. She had no problem in returning the gesture, weaving her hands into his hair and smiling as his beard (which he had grown out over the years) tickled against her soft, sensitive skin. Adelaide had to suppress a content sigh; there were few couples who could say they had this much passion after a few months of courtship, let alone five years of marriage. For a man who had been so obsessed who propriety during their courtship, and had half stuttered his way through their wedding night, Javert had come a long way in his shows of affection.

But, unfortunately, there was a time and place for such a thing, and trailing down her neck in the kitchen, forty minutes before he had to leave for work was neither the time nor the place.

Adelaide pulled away from her husband, placing a hand on his chest to stop him when he attempted to recapture her lips.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Adelaide smirked holding a finger to his lips.

Javert grinned, resting his hands on her lower back, "Never, ma Chérie."

"Ugh," Adelaide pulled a face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't call me that, s'il vous plaît, Darling? Père calls me that, and coming from you it just sounds… wrong."

"Fair enough," Javert released his wife and she went back to preparing breakfast. "Do you want some help?"

Adelaide raised a brow at him and gave a pointed look at his arm.

Cautiously drawing it back, Javert said, "I'll take that as a no."

"Oui, Mon Amour," Adelaide turned back to the counter and resumed her morning chores. "Though, if you're looking for something to do, you could tidy the living area."

Javert looked over at the chairs and side tables in front of the fireplace, a space which Adelaide had long ago dubbed the living area, as they had no separate receiving or dining rooms. Strewn across the tables and chairs were various books, toys, and articles of clothing, a mess caused only by the inclusion of a young child in a household.

"I didn't have time to straighten out Sébastien's things last night," Adelaide said as Javert began tidying the area. If Javert had been paying attention, he would have noticed her slower movements.

_If _he had been paying attention.

"Well, you were otherwise occupied," Javert smiled as memories of the previous night flashed through his mind.

Adelaide smirked at her husband, slowly carrying the dishes to the table, "Says the man who occupied me."

Javert averted her gaze, a pleased and proud expression on his face as he began filing away some books on the bookshelf, "Speaking of Sébastien, where is he? Not still in bed?"

Adelaide was suddenly very interested in the setting the table.

"Adelaide," Javert frowned gathering more books from the side table by his armchair, "where is Sébastien?"

"Outside," she mumbled, _very _focused on straightening out a fork.

Javert's eyes went wide.

"_What_?" he slammed the books back down on the side table.

Adelaide took a deep breath and turned to face her husband, "He's outside. Go on, give me the usual lecture."

Javert scowled beside himself with anger, "I don't see why I should, since you just choose to ignore it anyway."

"Javert-"

"Non, non, I'm just overreacting. After all, it's not like we live next to a prison of _violent offenders_. Of course it's perfectly safe to let our _four year old_ son play outside unsupervised next to the road said criminals travel on. What was I thinking?"

"It was only going to be for ten, maybe twenty minutes at the most," Adelaide crossed her arms in front of her. "I just needed a few minutes where he wasn't underfoot."

"Then put him in his room, or give him book to read," Javert tried to control his anger, they must have had this discussion a hundred times already. "He's like you; somehow he finds it enjoyable to read for leisure. Dieu knows he doesn't get that from me."

"Oh, oui, give him a book and have him ask every five seconds _Maman, what does this word mean_?" Adelaide rolled her eyes as she continued to gently set the table. "He's an advanced reader for his age, but not advanced enough to be left on his own. At least not with the kind of books we have in this house. Besides, it's half after eight in the morning; the only people using that road right now are guards switching from night watch to morning watch. You told me yourself, prisoners don't get released until at least noon. Plus the wall's taller than Sébastien, he can't see over it, and no one can see him. He's safe."

"That still doesn't make me feel better," Javert growled; he wanted to be done with this argument. "I just don't understand why you don't respect my wishes when I'm not around. I only want to keep him safe."

"Well, when you're the only one around to take care of our son, _then _you can call the shots. But until then, I really suggest you _get off my back_!" Adelaide snapped, slamming a plate down with a sudden burst of energy.

A tense silence filled the room, they both knew that neither of them was wrong about the situation, but they also knew that neither of them was right.

"Look," Adelaide exhaled deeply, relieving herself of anger, "I'm sorry. You're right, Sébastien _is_ too young to be outside by himself, but sometimes I need him out of the way. So how about I don't let him outside unsupervised after twelve, and for no more than twenty minutes?"

"Twelve and twenty?" Javert sighed, rubbing his forehead to relieve the stress. He had long ago learned that when Léonard had told him that being a father was learning to compromise, he wasn't just talking about dealing with the child, but rather the mother too. Unfortunately this was the best compromise he really was going to get, "Fine, but I still don't like it."

"Nor do you have to," Adelaide crossed back to the kitchen the weariness setting back into her movements. "Now, could you go get Sébastien? Breakfast's almost ready."

"Of course," he watched as she returned to the table to further set it, finally noticing her lethargy.

Javert paused; he really didn't like the tense feelings that were left between husband and wife after a fight. He always needed that reassurance that no argument could break them apart. So, as Adelaide crossed back toward the kitchen, Javert caught her by the arm, pulled her in and fervently crushed his lips to hers once more. She was confused for sure, but it didn't stop her from melting into the kiss and furthering it.

When he released her, she blinked rapidly as if clearing stars from her vision, "Wh-"

"Just reminding you I love you," Javert answered, holding her close.

Adelaide smiled, "I love you too. Now, our son, allez!"

* * *

Sébastien Javert, the boy who would later be called Enjolras, looked like a spitting image of his father. Yet, it was one of those things that you didn't see unless it was pointed out to you. He had his father's nose, his blue eyes, his eyebrows, mouth, chin, ears, and so on. In fact it seemed that the only thing Sébastien got from his mother was her curly hair, which was a long little mop in his fourth year of age. Even then Sébastien had the bright blonde hair colour of Javert's youth, a colour that now was darkened on the father from less exposure to sun and flecked with grey due to age and foremost, stress.

The four year old stood about a metre from the black stone wall that encircled the Javert property, bouncing a small brown ball against it. His stance was casual, but face inset with focus and determination as he threw and caught the ball. He looked worlds away in what Léonard had dubbed his thinking face. Léonard claimed that the reason the boy liked to bounce the ball so much was that the repetitive motion and noise, set rhythm for the youngster think and work things out to. No doubt Sébastien was developing complex thoughts and ideas, figuring out how to best work the world, what his role would be in it, and he contemplated the deep questions posed by society.

Personally Javert just thought Sébastien liked to bounce the ball because he liked bouncing the ball.

"Having fun?" Javert called to his son as the boy threw the ball once more.

The ball landed in the grass with a slight thud as the small boy's head snapped toward the source of the noise and he neglected to catch the ball upon its return.

"Papa!" the boy practically barrelled into his father's legs.

This was Javert's favorite part of the day, any time with his wife and son was a good time of the day, but the best had to be when Sébastien first saw his father in the morning. The way his eyes would always light up and a giant grin would stretch across his face. Javert knew that there was no one in the world the boy loved more than his father.

It would be a memory that haunted Javert for the rest of his life.

"Bon matin to you too, my boy," Javert awkwardly stood as Sébastien hugged his legs. He wasn't quite sure whether to bend down and struggle to return the boy's hug, or just keep standing there. Javert settled on patting Sébastien's head until the boy finally let go. "Maman says breakfast's almost ready."

Sébastien frowned, he knew that the sooner they had breakfast meant the sooner his father would have to leave, and like any son who idolized his father, he wanted to stop Javert's departure at all costs.

The boy looked up at his father with his best dog eyed expression, "But Papa-"

"_Sébastien," _Javert warned and the boy stopped with the puppy eyes. Javert sighed and lightly shook his head as he walked over to where Sébastien's ball lay abandoned in the grass; his son had a habit of forgetting it outside if his parents didn't bring it in. "Now take your ball and wait right here while I get the mail, and then we'll head inside."

Sébastien stubbornly crossed his arms and plopped down cross legged in the thin grass.

Javert had to repress the urge to roll his eyes as he strode down the path to the entrance way of the stone wall where the mailbox stood. Although mailboxes weren't used in Europe until the mid to late 19th century, they had begun to appear in Paris, France in the late 18th century. Since Javert and Adelaide lived on the edge of town, and the LaFleurs did have _some_ connections, as an anniversary gift one year, Carine had pulled some strings to get them one.

"It was Adelaide's idea to have kids, _not _mine," Javert muttered to himself retrieving the letters from the box. He glanced back over at his son who was throwing his ball in the air and catching it. A sad expression was on his face.

But, he hadn't been too harsh.

Had he?

"Sébastien?" Javert called.

The boy's head snapped up, missing his catch once again, "Oui, Papa?"

Javert sighed, searching for the words to say before finally settling on, "Can you check Gymont's trough for me?"

"Oui Papa!" Seemingly delighted with being helpful for his father, Sébastien scampered off toward where Gymont was tied.

Javert looked down at the letters in his hands; he wasn't worried about the prospect of the boy being by Gymont unsupervised. The horse had long ago become used to the smallest Javert, and in fact was pleased with the young boy's company as he all too often brought treats with him. As an additional comfort, the window in the house's kitchen area overlooked Gymont's area, so if something_ did_ happen, Adelaide would keep an eye on him. As for Sébastien dealing with the horse's food and water, he was well aware that that was a job for either Maman or Père, but he knew what to look for and was often given the job of checking the horse's supply.

Taking a glance through the letters, Javert saw that, as per usual, most were posted to Adelaide, her being the one from society. He flipped through the letters when suddenly he eye caught on one.

It was posted to him.

But who would-

"Papa!" his son came scurrying back, a proud look on his face. "Gymont's trough is good!"

"Are you sure?" Javert didn't look down at the boy beaming up at him; he just stared at the strange yet somehow familiar envelope. "Because remember the last time you said it was good, and poor Gy ended up starving half the day."

Sébastien huffed, crossed his arms, and in typical Enjolras blooded fashion, rolled his eyes, "Oui, _Père_."

The usage of the term Père is what caught Javert's attention.

"Pardon, I had to… Never mind," Javert shook his head as he tucked the letters into his coat. Landing back in reality, Javert noticed something in the grass; it was the ball. Picking it up, Javert frowned as he extended it to his son, "Didn't I just give this back to you?"

Sébastien snatched the ball from his father's outstretched hand, "Maybe…"

Javert sighed.

"Adelaide's idea. Adelaide's idea," Javert muttered to himself. "Look your Maman probably has breakfast ready, and I have to head off soon, so allez."

Sébastien frowned, racking his brain for any way to keep his father with him that much longer, "But Papa-"

"Now Sébastien, we can do this the easy way, _or_," Javert grinned down at his son, "the hard way. So which is it?"

Sébastien knew that look.

"The hard way."

* * *

"When I said, go get Sébastien…" Adelaide laughed as she beheld the sight of her husband entering the house, carrying their brightly beaming son under one arm.

"He chose the hard way," Javert shrugged, plopping Sébastien down in his chair at the table and retrieving the letters from his coat. "Mail's here."

"Merci," Adelaide taking her letters from her husband as they sat down at the table and began dishing out the food. "You got one?"

"Oui," Javert broke the seal of his letter and began reading it, "though I don't know from… whom… Mon Dieu."

"Language," Adelaide jerked her head toward Sébastien who was happily eating, off in his own world.

Javert didn't seem to even hear her; he too was in his own world. He was reading over a letter and glancing at a document he had withdrawn from the envelope.

"Darling? Darling? Mon Amour?" Adelaide frowned, but her voice didn't rouse him. "Javert?"

"Julien Devere?" Javert whispered to himself, eyes glued on the document. "Non, it can't be."

Adelaide sighed, she hated when she had to resort to this, "Gabriel!"

That did it.

"Pardon," Javert stuffed the papers back into the envelope, which he hastily shoved in his jacket. "I should get going."

"What? Non!" Adelaide and Sébastien's objections overlapped each other as Javert gave Sébastien's hair and slight tousle, and pressed a kiss to Adelaide's cheek.

"But you've barely touched your breakfast," Adelaide protested as Javert crossed to the door.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll eat later. Au revoir!" Javert slammed the door behind him.

Adelaide turned back to her son, "What was that about?"

Sébastien just shrugged and dug back into his food.

* * *

"Is it true?" asked the assistant guard in a hushed whisper as the prisoners passed by towards the galleys.

Chevalier sighed, glancing around as the other guards led out the prisoners, some of which were already humming the tune of their work song, "Oui."

"But," Javert frowned, keeping his back to the prisoners to prevent them from seeing his panicked expression, "why wasn't I told?"

"It seemed like it would affect your work performance for something that doesn't really change anything," Chevalier replied, carefully eyeing each prisoner.

"Doesn't change anything?" Javert cried, wincing at his superior's expression at the outburst. He lowered his voice back to an appropriate volume, a hushed whisper, "Of course it changes things."

"Really?" Chevalier raised a brow. "Is it going to change how you deal with him?"

"Well, non."

"Does it mean you'll treat him any differently than the others?"

"Non."

"Does this mean your lifestyle will change?"

"Non."

"So, it will only change your feelings about him?" Chevalier asked.

"Well," Javert frowned, "not really."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

Javert sighed, "I just… wish I had known."

"It still doesn't change anything," Chevalier snapped, he had more important things to do than play psychologist to the assistant guard. "He's still a prisoner and you're still a guard, and a bloody good one at that. So, forget whatever it is that's bothering you about this, and do your job. Or am I going to have to find someone else to?"

"Non, Monsieur," Javert bowed to his boss.

"Good, now here are 24601's papers," Chevalier handed the sheaf to the younger guard.

"Merci," Javert kept his eyes lowered, he had much fear and respect for his superior that Javert often forgot that the man was only seven years his elder.

"Now get back to your position," Chevalier ordered, "we've got a ship to deal with."

* * *

Due to its location, it actually rained very rarely in Toulon, only on about sixty days of the year. The wettest month however, was in October in which they would experience brief, but torrential rains. On this particular day, while the prisoners hauled in the wreckage of a ship, Toulon experienced a short downpour of what seemed like a mix of rain and snow.

Javert stood above the galleys, watching the prisoners while they worked. His thick uniform kept him warm on days like this, but was absolute murder on the warm days of the year. Still, he was thankful for the heavy fabric on this particular day.

His job was to observe the prisoners, make sure they weren't plotting anything, that everyone was working, and basically to ensure no funny business was going on. As long as the prisoners kept at their work and kept looking down, there wouldn't be any problems.

But this was Javert's life, so of course there would be problems.

The prisoners sung their work song, rotating through the lyrics, each taking their turn for the solos and teaching the new prisoners the words. About halfway through the work, they returned to the lyric of "_Look down, look down, don't look them_ (or 'em as some would sing it) _in the eye_."

24601 took the solo on this particular round, and just as he sung the word eye, he did the very thing he was singing about.

He looked up at Javert.

As the other prisoners sang the next line (_look down, look down, you're here until you die_) Javert frowned and held 24601's gaze. Javert vaguely wondered if 24601 knew that today he would be freed and if this was some sort of last day rebellion. It unsettled him, of course the convict knew today was the day, what convict didn't keep track? The thing that worried Javert was that the criminals who acted out rebellion on their last day meant that the prison sentence _hadn't _punished them enough. Prisoners were like wild horses, and only the ones who had been broken could truly return to society.

24601 had not been broken.

What Javert didn't know was that it would not be him, but rather a Bishop, off in the town of Digne, who would break 24601's criminal spirit and give him a new, honest life.

But how could Javert possibly know that? All he knew was that he had one last chance to try and break 24601 himself, or else this violent man would be free in society to do whatever he wanted.

And as a father and husband, that thought greatly worried Javert.

Using his baton and 24601's unbroken gaze, Javert pointed at the prisoner and gestured for him to look down.

But as 24601 looked back down towards the wrecked ship, another problem prisoner caught Javert's attention.

"_No God above_," was sung out by a familiar voice, and Javert stopped in his tracks and turned his attention on the prisoner.

It was Prisoner 18493, aka Julien Devere.

Javert's frown hardened from mild annoyance to pure hatred as Julien continued singing, "_and Hell alone below_."

"_Look down, look down_," Javert paced along, watching the prisoners sing, like a predator stalking its prey. He couldn't believe that after all these years, this man had been right under his nose and he had never known, "_there's twenty years to go_."

"_I've done no wrong, sweet Jesus hear my prayer_," one of the prisoners sung as Javert kept his eyes locked on Julien. Chevalier had been right, nothing had really changed between jailer and captive, but still… he should have been told.

"_Look down, look down_, _sweet Jesus doesn't care,_" Javert caught something out of the corner of his eye as the prisoners chanted. 24601 was eying the guards on the wall, the ones who were standing ready to shoot without hesitation. Javert never liked it when the prisoners watched the guards, not only were they not looking down, but it always seemed like they were plotting something. It was in that moment Javert decided that dealing with his new information about Devere would have to wait, right now he needed to focus his attention on the defiant prisoner.

"_I know she'll wait, I know that she'll be true_," sung another prisoner as Javert kept his eyes locked on 24601, waiting for the moment that the prisoner would no doubt look up at him again.

Javert's determination was clearly shown in his relaxed grip on his baton, as it hung limply by his side. He was almost willing 24601 to look up.

And then it happened, 24601 looked back up as they sung, "_Look down, look down, they've all forgotten you._"

Javert gave him a cold look, and 24601 looked back down as the prisoner in front of him sang, "_When I get free, you won't see me, here for dust."_

Yes, Javert needed to think of something to teach 24601 his place, and he needed to think fast.

It wasn't until the prisoners were headed back to their holdings, still singing their work song that Javert finally figured out what 24601's one last reminder would be.

"_Look down, look down, you'll always be a slave,"_ sung the prisoners as 24601 inched closer and closer toward Javert in the line, carefully the prisoner once looked up at the guards around him. _"Look down, look down, you're standing in your grave."_

Javert almost winced as each and every prisoner carelessly walked over the ship's flag. The ancient and honourable symbol of France being muddied and torn by the lowest of the low was sickening to the assistant guard. But one by one, 24601 moved slowly up in line and soon both problems would be solved.

Then it happened, 24601 was next.

Javert extended out his baton, halting 24601, and the guards around Javert held up the line. He paused for a moment, looking in the eye of the prisoner he had once helped his father-in-law recapture. It was the briefest of moments that he met 24601's eyes, but the wave of power Javert felt over 24601 was immense.

With a commanding and authoritative tone and posture, Javert looked back toward the sacred symbol of France and relayed his order to 24601, "Retrieve the flag."

24601 turned toward the flag and understood instantly, it was a challenge. It was a threat. It was a reminder of what he was, and most importantly, it was impossible.

Or so Javert thought.

Though he showed no sign of amazement or even interest, Javert was truly astounded when 24601 was actually able to lift the mast unaided, and carry it all the way until he dropped it down at Javert's feet. He didn't even take a glance at Julien Devere, the man who had truly been plaguing his mind that day, as the prisoner passed him in line.

Javert didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to file the show of strength into his memory.

"Now, Prisoner 24601," the Assistant Guard produced 24601's papers, acting as if he had not seen such a show of strength, nor that he was disappointed that he had yet been able to break the prisoner's spirit, "your time is up and your parole's begun. You know what that means."

24601 couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, after all those years, it had finally come.

"Yes," he took the parole papers from the assistant guard, "it means I'm free."

Javert frowned and darkly replied, "No."

24601 glanced up in slight confusion at the assistant guard as Javert told the man the way things were _actually _going to work.

"Follow to the letter your itinerary," Javert instructed rounding in front of the former prisoner, "this badge of shame will show until you die. It warns you're a dangerous man."

"I stole a loaf of bread," 24601 looked up, they weren't really making such a fuss over so small of a crime, were they? "My sister's child was close to death, we were starving-"

"You will starve again," Javert snapped. "Unless you learn the meaning of the law."

He had no sympathy for 24601; the man had been born to much better opportunities in life than Javert had. Javert knew all too well the pain of an empty stomach and going days without food because his mother couldn't afford to (or sometimes, didn't care to) feed her son. But there were two ways people like Javert and 24601 could be a part of society, by either preying on society, or protecting it. Javert had chosen to protect, and 24601 had chosen to prey.

"I know the meaning of those nineteen years," 24601 seethed, "a slave of the law."

"Five years for what you did," Javert could tell the man didn't understand why his sentence and parole had been so harsh. But Javert couldn't forget. Every time he saw the scar on his father-in-law's arm or the crookedness of Léonard's nose due to the breakage 24601 had caused so long ago, Javert remembered why 24601 had spent almost two decades in this prison, and he had no patience for the former prisoner's ignorance. "The rest because you tried to run. Yes 24601."

Javert seemed to have hit a nerve, for when he spoke those words, 24601's head snapped up, "My name is Jean Valjean."

The assistant guard was beyond done with this man, "And I'm Javert. Do not forget my name. Do not forget me."

The now freed man took his signal and now headed towards the steps to his freedom.

"24601," Javert's words rang out behind him. No, Javert hadn't managed to break Jean Valjean, but something told him that this wasn't over.

"_Look down, look down, you'll always be a slave."_

As the prisoners chanted the final lines of the song, Jean Valjean walked slowly up the steps, Javert's eyes carefully following him. Javert carefully folded his arms behind his back, body filling with absolute power and loathing.

Valjean reached the top of the steps and looked back at Javert.

He held a dangerous gaze on Valjean.

"_Look down, look down, you're standing in your grave."_

No, this _wasn't _over.

* * *

The one thing that Javert hated most about his house was that the prisoner's singing carried from the prison towards the house, quite clearly during the day. So, once the rain had cleared and Adelaide was finally able to hang the laundry out the dry, the groans of the prisoners' work song set a pace for Adelaide to work as she watched Sébastien out of the corner of her eye, while he bounced his ball against the wall.

On this particular day, Adelaide wasn't strictly using the same pace as the work song dictated, more using every second or third beat. She had yet to admit it to her husband, but ever since she had caught the cold that had plagued Toulon back in September, Adelaide had felt slower and weaker. Adelaide had several theories as to what might have caused it, but she wanted confirmation or denial of her first theory before she brought it to her husband's attention.

Suddenly, Adelaide realised that the familiar pounding of Sébastien's ball hitting the stone wall had ceased. Slowly, she turned to see Sébastien standing quite still, staring thoughtfully at the wall as his ball lay in the grass in front of him.

"Mon amour?" Adelaide frowned at her son; he had on his thinking face.

"Why do they sing?" Sébastien asked.

Adelaide blinked, "Pardon?"

"Why do they sing?" Sébastien repeated.

Adelaide smiled fondly at her son and slowly walked over to the dip in the round wall. Sébastien scampered over, and his mother gently lifted him up onto the perch.

"A song is a powerful thing," Adelaide said as mother and son looked out at the prison. "It's a message, a sign to all those who hear it. A song can build an empire or break a heart. They sing because it's the one thing no one can ever take from you. People may take your home, your love, your life, your health, but they can _never _take the song in your heart. Everyone has their own song, and it's up to you to figure it out."

Sébastien looked up at his mother, "What's my song?"

Adelaide laughed, "Didn't I just say that you had to figure it out yourself?"

"Oui, Maman," Sébastien looked away, he had inherited his father's habit of looking away in embarrassment, but when he truly was uncomfortable, he would redden like his mother.

"It's true, you'll have to find it yourself," Adelaide wanted to hug her son, but she knew from personal experience that one wrong touch on that perch could send you tumbling off of it, and it did not have a pleasant landing. "Who knows, maybe it'll be a love song, or a victory march, or riveting duet. But I can tell you this; it's going to be a rousing song. Everyone who hears it won't be able to help but join in on it."

"Really?" Sébastien beamed.

"Really," Adelaide nodded, softly stroking his hair.

"What's your song?" Sébastien looked back up at his mother.

Adelaide laughed, "I'm not quite sure on the words, but it's definitely a love song."

"A love song?" Sébastien pulled a face.

"Oui," Adelaide shook her head lightly at her son's expression, he was at that age when girls were starting to become _icky_, and honestly she wondered if they'd ever become _unicky _to her boy_. _"A song of my love for you, for your Grandpère, for our friends, for your Papa-"

"What's Papa's song?" Sébastien perked up at the mention of his father, his most favorite person in the world.

"It's about stars," Adelaide smiled to herself, remembering when she had stargazed with Javert on their wedding night. "He's got most of the words down, though I think he still needs to work out the tune a bit more."

Sébastien looked down thoughtfully, and in the silence the prisoners' chanting floated on the air.

"_Look down, look down, you'll always be a slave. Look down, look down, you're standing in your grave._"

"Maman?" Sébastien asked cautiously.

"Oui, mon amour?" Adelaide replied.

"What's the prisoners' song?" Sébastien looked up.

Adelaide paused, her silence was unsettling to the young boy, but then she carefully asked, "Do you hear the prisoners singing?"

Sébastien looked to the prison and nodded.

"They sing the song of angry men. They sing as they work how they don't wish to be the slaves of the law again," Adelaide answered. She knelt down as that she was face to face with her son, and softly placed a hand on his chest so she felt the beating of his little heart, "Know that when the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of their drums, there is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes."

They sat there is silence for a few minutes, Adelaide's hand on her son's chest, feeling the powerful heartbeat. She might have been fooling herself, but it almost felt like his heartbeat began to slow and adjust to the beat of the song. But just as quickly as that feeling came did it go, and his heartbeat was back to normal.

"Oui, Maman," Sébastien nodded as her words carefully cemented into his memory.

Suddenly Adelaide looked over her son's shoulder, "Renée!"

Sébastien turned to see Aunt Carine's mother wave to his mother as she rounded down the road toward the entrance of the round wall. Without any warning to the boy, Adelaide picked him up off the wall and set his feet down onto the grass.

"Get your ball and head inside," Adelaide instructed her son as she crossed over to her laundry basket.

As his mother picked up the laundry that hadn't been hung up yet and greeted her best friend's mother, Sébastien looked back toward the prison. The singing had stopped, so it must mean all the prisoners had been sent back inside. Sébastien didn't pay attention as Adelaide and Renée entered the house, also oblivious to the boy. He kept his eyes fixed on the Bagne as he noticed a small figure walk up the path from the prison. The small dark figure kept coming closer and closer until he was in plain sight of the boy. Without thinking, Sébastien cautiously approached the dip in the wall and tried to peek over the wall.

He was met with the sight of a prisoner. Sharp brown eyes, shaved black hair, a dirty red rag clothing his body, and yellow parole papers clutched to his side, the man was staring straight at the boy.

Sébastien was frightened, yet curious, what had the man done? Did he steal something? Lie as to who he was? Did he kill someone? The possibilities were endless. Whether it was bravery or stupidity that caused it, Sébastien stayed rooted to his spot, eyes observing the stranger, taking in as much information about the man as possible.

The man too was studying the boy, it was the first person he had seen outside of the Bagne in years, and as such, the boy was making an impression in the criminal's mind.

"Sébastien! Inside now! Don't make me ask again!" a woman's voice snapped and the boy jumped, the fear of the criminal seemingly finally setting in.

Sébastien tore his eyes away from the stranger and quickly scampered back into the house, leaving his ball lying forgotten in the grass.

The criminal stood silent for about a minute, staring at the house the boy had disappeared into.

"Sébastien," the man whispered, locking the name and face of the boy into his memory.

Then, with a shrug, Jean Valjean continued on his way.

* * *

Javert stared at the document in his hand. He sat in his armchair in front of the fireplace. A glass of liquor sat neatly on the table next to him. Only a few sips had been taken from it, but it was no less comforting. Javert had no idea what kind it was, he had simply grabbed a bottle at random from the cabinet, poured himself a glass, then locked the bottle back in the cabinet without taking a glance at the label.

Adelaide sat across from him in her own armchair; she was reading aloud to Sébastien who was perched in her lap. Her words were meaningless to Javert, lost to time as he stared at the document, willing the words Julien Devere to disappear.

But they didn't.

"Gabriel!"

Javert snapped from his reverie, both his wife and son were looking at him expectantly.

"Oui?" he answered Adelaide. "What were you saying?"

"I was telling Sébastien that it's time to say bonne nuit to his Papa," Adelaide replied.

"Oh, is it that time already?" Javert frowned, gazing over at the small clock that sat on the mantle above the fireplace. "Alright, Sébastien, come say bonne nuit."

Sébastien pulled out the puppy dog eyes for his mother, "But Maman-"

"Sébastien!" Adelaide snapped. She didn't have patience for this now; she was concerned about her husband. Javert wasn't much of drinker, mostly just at social events or when something was wrong, and he certainly didn't like to drink in front of their son. So for him to pour himself a drink meant warning bells were going off in her head. Add that to the fact that he had been rather moody and jumpy, always staring at that document and that she had to use his first name _twice _today, Adelaide was very worried about her husband.

Meanwhile all Sébastien could think about was that he had struck out with the puppy dogs eyes both times he had pulled them that day. He must be losing his touch.

Javert folded up his document and shoved it back into his pocket as Sébastien scampered into his father's lap. Adelaide watched silently as the father hugged his son, placed a quick kiss to Sébastien's forehead, and ruffled the boy's wavy blonde hair.

"Looks like you're going to need a haircut soon," Javert smiled for the first time that night, the sight of his son always put a smile on his face.

"Next week," Adelaide answered as Sébastien pawed away his father's hand and smoothed the hair back down, not that anything could tame to curly mess when it got long, not that that ever lasted long. Javert had apparently decided the boy was going to have a career in law enforcement, and had begun grooming him for it. Part of this grooming was ensuring Sébastien had short, uniform haircuts. While Sébastien was still rather young, Javert let it slide when it got longer than it should, but Adelaide suspected that leniency would disappear when Sébastien got older. "Alright, come on Sébastien, bedtime."

"Bonne nuit, Sébastien," Javert gave the boy one last squeeze before releasing him.

"Bonne nuit, Papa," Sébastien hopped out of his father's lap and scuttled towards his mother who ushered the boy towards his bedroom.

"Go get into bed, I'll be there in a minute," Adelaide called as Sébastien disappeared into his room. When the boy was gone, Adelaide turned back to her husband, who was absentmindedly staring into the fire. "So, I'll tuck him in for the night, then I'll work on the dishes while you go take care of Gy, and after that I want to talk to you about something."

Javert was silent for a minute, then, as if he hadn't been aware of her speaking, he looked up and blinked, "Huh?"

Adelaide bit back a scream, "I'm going to take care of Sébastien, you deal with your horse, then _we _are going to talk."

A slightly panicked look crossed his face, "Why would we need to talk? There's nothing to talk about."

"There's something I want to talk to you about," Adelaide clenched her hand tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she withheld an outburst.

"But there's nothing to talk about," There was a nervous strain in his voice.

"Javert-"

"Nothing!"

Adelaide bit her lip as frustrated images of responses that were less controlled and more violent, flashed through her mind. In all honesty, the fact that her husband would easily overpower her in seconds was a major deciding factor in choosing not to act out any of them. She merely settled for an exasperated cry and storming off into Sébastien's room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

"And now she's mad at me. I will never understand women, Gy," Javert brushed the horse's mane. The assistant guard had developed the habit of talking to the horse about his problems as he readied Gymont for the night. Adelaide had told Javert that it was supposedly therapeutic for him because he knew Gymont would never reply, and it was nice for him to get his true feelings out.

Javert had responded by asking why all who went by the name of Enjolras had to find meaning in everything. Sometimes a man just talked to his horse because he wanted to talk to his horse. Or that they just simply had a habit of walking on the ledges of tall structures, not because they believed themselves morally superior and trusted God to not let them fall.

"I swear Gy, an Enjolras will be the death of me one of these days," Javert shook his head. The horse tossed his head, flicking his tail as he whinnied in response. Javert smiled and patted the horse's neck, "Alright, it's time to sleep. Down boy."

Carefully, Javert helped the horse down, fixing the bed of hay around the animal. As Gymont settled down on the cold ground, Javert once again wished that he had the funds to build Gymont a proper stable. Unfortunately, due to the fact that he had a family to support and hadn't received a pay raise in seven years, Javert couldn't afford such luxuries. That wasn't to say the Javert family was poor, Adelaide had brought in money to the marriage, and her husband made more than the average assistant to the guard. Plus, Adelaide had about 300 francs sitting in a bank in Paris, waiting for a rainy day. The small fortunate had been inheritance from her mother's aunt, Adelaide being one of the only surviving Astiers for her great-aunt to leave anything to. A few distant cousins of hers had received the majority of the old woman's possessions, but apparently Great Aunt Marguerite had had a fondness for Jacqueline and wanted to leave a little something for Jacqueline's daughter.

Javert remembered the details so vividly because it had been the cause of his and Adelaide's first real fight as a married couple. She and Léonard had planned to go to Paris in order for her to accept the inheritance as well as attend the funeral out of respect for her mother's bond with the old woman. Unfortunately, Carine heard out it (as she always did), decided that she and Jérémie needed a break from Toulon, and invited herself along turning the originally five day visit into a month long vacation. Javert hadn't been able to arrange to take off a month from the Bagne, and after a rather lengthy fight between the newlyweds, it was decided that he wouldn't go at all.

He also remembered the fight because it had been three months into their marriage, and due to some rather strong timing factors, Javert knew that their "making up" the night before she left for Paris had led to the conception of Sébastien.

Smiling to himself as memories of that night flashed through his mind, Javert gave Gymont one final tap on the neck as a gesture of wishing the horse good night. Javert glanced over at the house window that looked into the kitchen area. He could see Adelaide work on cleaning the last of the supper dishes, her jaw was set and she was practically murdering the dishes, no doubt still angry at him for his behaviour earlier. Javert frowned thinking about Adelaide's harsh words to him before she tucked Sébastien in, he had acted wrongly against her being.

Moving slowly, he made his way back to the house thinking about how angry badly he had treated her today. There tonight when she was just a concerned wife trying to talk to her husband, not understanding what his issue had been. Plus he had yelled at her that morning for something so stupid as letting Sébastien play alone outside again. He needed to stop being so angry with her, after all, she respected him and trusted him, and she deserved the same from him. After all, why shouldn't he trust his wife?

Suddenly Javert stopped.

Sitting in front of him, lying forgotten in the grass was Sébastien's ball. That only meant one thing, she had let Sébastien outside alone again.

…Oh, this wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

"Everything good with Gy?" Adelaide asked washing the dishes as she heard the door close.

"Is he asleep?" Javert glanced toward Sébastien's bedroom door.

"Uh huh," Adelaide replied drying off a dish adding it to the stack of newly clean ones. "Why?"

"You know that I hate fighting in front of the boy," Javert looked to his wife, hand clenching the ball being held at his side.

"We're having a fight?" Adelaide glanced back at her husband as if talking about the weather.

"Oui," Javert nodded.

"Alright," Adelaide placed the dish she was working on, down and threw the dishcloth over her shoulder as she turned to face her husband, arms crossed. "What about?"

Javert placed the ball on the counter.

"Oh," Adelaide stared at the ball, "_that_."

"You let him out alone again," Javert was seething. "After your promise this morning, you still-"

"I _didn't _let him out alone!" Adelaide snapped.

"Then how do you explain this?"

"I forgot to check if he brought it, I had other things on my mind at the time."

Javert scoffed, "A likely story."

Adelaide raised a brow, "Knock that off."

"Knock what off?" Javert crossed his arm behind his back, taking a posture not unlike the one he did when speaking to the prisoners at the Bagne.

"That!" she gestured to his pose. "Stop treating me like one of your prisoners, and show me some respect!"

"Respect?" Javert snapped advancing forward. "How am I supposed to respect you when you won't respect me? When you disobey a direct order-"

"_Order_?" Adelaide grabbed the dishcloth from her shoulder and snapped it down on the counter. "Ok, Javert, let's get one thing straight here, I'm not your nanny, I'm not your maid, I'm not your servant and I'm certainly not one of your prisoners. I am your _wife_! I do the chores because I choose to. I take care of Sébastien because I choose to. I let you be the breadwinner because I _choose _to. I could afford to hire a housekeeper for us, a governess for Sébastien and keep this family economically afloat without either of us having a job. But I choose otherwise because I know how important it is to you that you provide for your family, that you have a purpose in life. And I respect that! So all I ask you that you respect me by believing me when I say that I didn't leave him outside alone!"

"Then how do you explain the ball?"

"Like I told you, I forgot to check if he had it," Adelaide was seething, she really didn't want to tell Javert why she had forgotten… at least, not like this.

"How could you forget?" Javert demanded.

"Because Renée LaFleur came by."

"I don't see how a social visit from Renée LaFleur could make you forget-"

"It wasn't a social visit!" Adelaide screamed. She stopped and took a deep breath, "It was a professional visit."

Javert froze. A professional visit from the town midwife? But that must mean…

The assistant guard's eyes gazed down at his wife's stomach, "You're pregnant?"

Adelaide sighed, collecting herself, "Non. I thought I was, but I'm not pregnant."

"Why did you think you were pregnant?" Javert frowned, glancing back up to meet her gaze.

"Lately? I've been tired and… and feeling weak," Adelaide admitted. "And I thought since I never really got sick when I was pregnant with Sébastien, that I might not be sick at all the second time around. I've been feeling this way ever since that cold back in September."

She was referring to when Adelaide and Sébastien had fallen ill the previous month. Javert hadn't been sick because if there was one thing her husband liked to brag about, it was his iron constitution. Adelaide doubted there was anyone in Toulon that was unaware that Javert hadn't even had so much as a sniffle in the last thirteen years. In fact the last time he had been sick was when a real bugger of a flu had hit the town and _everyone_, even Monsieur Iron Constitution himself, had caught it. Now that she thought about it, it had been during that sickness that she had first met Javert. Her father had been short staffed due to the flu, so the Bagne spared three guards, one of which was the twenty-two year old Gabriel Javert who met the sixteen year old Chief Inspector's daughter when she brought her father his lunch.

Though he never would admit it, Adelaide was certain she had caught Javert doing a double take when she walked in the door that day.

Now, thirteen years later, he stood having wedded, bedded and father a child to her, absolutely dumbstruck that she had thought herself pregnant.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Javert asked his voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I wanted to make certain if I was before I told you," Adelaide replied, and Javert sighed looking down. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About what?" his voice was off hand, not taking in her words.

"What was in that letter."

His head snapped up.

Adelaide frowned gently placing a hand on his arm as he turned away, "Darling, s'il vous plait, tell me what's upset you so. You've been so angry and jumpy ever since you read that letter."

Javert sighed, and then he placed Sébastien's ball on the counter, "Do you remember the morning after our wedding?"

"Oui," Adelaide smiled, remembering that love filled morning, with its caressing touches and stolen kisses, experiencing everything for the first time and learning each other.

Javert was frowning though, "Do you remember what I told you when you asked why my mother didn't attend the wedding?"

Adelaide nodded, "You said that there is but one thing I will ever ask of you and that is to never ask about my mother."

"Correct." Javert removed the letter from his pocket, "Adelaide, what do you know about my mother?"

"Well," Adelaide thought hard, "I know that she's a gypsy that had you inside the Bagne. I know she was involved with a convict, that she, _ahem,_ had male clients, and I know she taught you about the stars."

"She's not actually a gypsy, at least not a Romani," Javert said. "She's just one hell of a con artist. She does it all, palm reading, tarot cards, divination, crystal ball, you name it, and she probably does it. She even lives in a caravan and took a gypsy name, Gitana, which literally means Gypsy, all to complete the image. The truth is that her name is Béatrice Thibault, who was thrown out by her parents when she was sixteen for messing around some no account rich boy and became a con artist and prostitute. At some point she became involved with a man who got her pregnant, and they both ended up getting arrested. She got a lighter sentence due to being a pregnant woman, and gave birth to a boy that she for some reason decided to make up a last name for and named him Gabriel Javert."

"Alright," Adelaide frowned, "but what does that have to do with the letter?"

Javert sighed, "For the first five years of my left, I slept in the caravan, but once I turned six, I had to sleep outside. Sometimes she fed me, sometimes she didn't. She would leave me alone in places for long periods of time and sometimes not come back for days. When I got older she sometimes used me in her illegal activities. Eventually I learned it was wrong and refused, but life with her was miserable. So, the day I turned sixteen, I left her a note, and when nothing but the shirt on my back, I left my mother and never looked back. I got a job at the Bagne and lived there until I saved up enough to buy a small property next to the Bagne that I fixed up, and, well you know the rest. I left my mother, but she never really left me. She keeps an eye on me, but she never approaches me unless she needs something."

Adelaide took the letter from her husband when he extended it to her, but he kept the other document by his side. Her eyes ran over the letter, it was cordial, but to the point.

"She wants money?" Adelaide looked up at her husband.

"She only writes me when she gets herself in trouble with the wrong people and needs bailing out. If it's not a Claquesous, then it's a Babet," Javert fumed. "If it's not a Babet, then it's a Brujon. It doesn't matter who it is, she always needs money."

"So you're angry because you have to send her money?"

"Oh, Dieu, non! I never send her money! Sharing blood or not, I'm not about to support a criminal lifestyle. I don't care if it was her, you, or even Sébastien, I won't tolerate the association of criminals if one wishes to remain under my roof."

"Then thank goodness Sébastien won't be associating with any criminals," Adelaide looked over the letter again, not even considering that there could ever be a rift caused between the father and son. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, "Why have I never heard about this before? We've been married for five years."

"Because the last time I received one of these letters, it was six years ago, about a month before our marketplace incident," Javert replied.

"So, what makes this one different?" Adelaide asked, sensing the issue.

Javert sighed, "When I left her, I left behind a great many of my possessions, including some of my important papers. I guess she knew I wasn't going to give her money, so she decided to try to convince me to give it to her by sending me my baptism certificate."

"Are you going to pay her for the baptism certificate?" Adelaide frowned as her husband offered the document to her, and she took it and glanced over it.

"Of course not, if you left your wedding ring at an inn, and the innkeeper tried to sell it back to you, would you give him the money?" Javert asked.

"Fair enough," Adelaide shrugged, "so what's the problem then?"

Javert shifted awkwardly, "My mother never showed it to me while I lived with her."

"And?" Adelaide pushed.

Javert went silent, "I've never known the name of my father until today."

Adelaide frowned and her eyes went down to the line that read: Name of Father.

"Julien Devere?" she read out in confusion.

"He's one of the prisoners in my group," Javert finally admitted, fully ashamed and worried of his wife's opinion of him now.

"Oh, Mon Amour!" Adelaide instantly set down the papers and took him into her embrace, "you don't need to explain anything, I understand why this upsets you. Just know that I'm here for you, and this changes nothing about how I see you. If this happens again, I'll be understanding of anything you need."

"Merci, Mon Amour…" Javert smiled, holding her tight before slowly breaking apart.

Adelaide's sympathetic smile faded, "But don't think that means that when you're in a bad mood you get to be grumpy, and snappy and drinking in front of Sébastien, you come talk to me first."

"Agreed," Javert laughed. "Look, I'm sorry. I have acted wrongly against you. You were concerned about my wellbeing and I treated you with harshness and distain."

"It's alright," Adelaide looked away.

"No it isn't," Javert pushed away the papers and ball. "If I had done that in my professional duties, my superiors would I have punished me. I must not serve myself any less in my private duties."

Adelaide raised a brow flirtatiously, "So does that mean you want me to _punish _you?"

"Perhaps," Javert smirked. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him, "Why? Did you have any ideas?"

"Huh," Adelaide was coy. A small smile played on her lips as she stroked the side of his face. Her hand came to a rest at the base of his jaw and ran her thumb over his bottom lip, "You know, I might be able to think of something."

Javert took a silent moment to observe his wife; this had been the first time he had really taken a good look at her in a while.

She really did look tired.

"So," he gently took the hand thumbing his lip, and pressed a soft, respectful kiss on the back of her hand. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Adelaide tilted her head, a pleased look on her face, "I thought you weren't listening."

Javert smiled, "I'm always listening. Now, tell me, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well," Adelaide hesitated, "you already know the first part. I was going to tell you that I had thought I was pregnant."

"And the second part?" Javert wrapped his free arm around her waist, both now holding her close to him.

"Well, I was thinking…" Again she hesitated, carefully wrapping her arms around his neck. "Did you… Maybe we could… I mean-"

"Adelaide?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if bracing for impact, "Did you maybe want to try?"

Adelaide cracked an eye open.

Javert was frozen.

"Try?" he practically squeaked. "Try for what?"

"Another child," she gently replied. "I mean, I know we never talked about more children, but we've been married six years and Sébastien's going on five this April, so I was thinking that if we _did _want more children, maybe now would be the right time. I mean, honestly, I'm surprised I haven't gotten pregnant again by now."

"More children?" Javert repeated clearly missing more than half of her statement. "You want more children?"

Adelaide's face fell, "You don't?"

"It's complicated," Javert sighed, moving an arm from her waist to rub his face. "I mean, I never really wanted children in the first place, but then Sébastien just sort of happened."

Her arms fell from his neck; she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Adelaide had always wanted several children, being an only child she had often felt lonely as a young girl. Despite Sébastien preferring solitude over the company of other children, Adelaide knew she wanted him to have a sibling.

And now Javert was saying he didn't.

"I'm sorry, I just never saw myself having a whole horde of children." Javert caught his wife's disappointed look. She could barely contain her emotions when a single tear fell down her face. He sighed, pausing to think and then carefully stroked the tear from her cheek, "Then again I never wanted to get married, then you came crashing into my life and I knew I had to spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. So, if having another child is what makes you happy, I suppose we could try."

"Really?" her eyes lit up.

"Really," he answered and she threw her arms back around his neck and he slipped her arms back around her waist. "Besides, it will ensure _my _safety from an irate Chief Inspector who's upset that I made his daughter unhappy and denied him anymore grandchildren."

Adelaide frowned, "You know, if you really don't want to do this, we don't have to-"

"Shh," he pressed a finger to her lips, and then moved his arm back to her waist. "I didn't really want Sébastien at first, but now that I have him, there's nothing that could tear him from me. Besides, maybe this one will look like you."

"So, we're trying?" Adelaide grinned.

Javert nodded, "We're trying."

Adelaide let out a happy yelp and crushed her lips against his. They intended on it to be a simple kiss expressing their happiness, but as the kiss became deeper and hungrier, it turned into something more passionate. Hands wove into hair, tongues danced together, then his lips began trailing down her neck and pretty soon he had her pressed firmly against the counter, not unlike that morning. With a gasp from Adelaide, the two broken apart, slightly panting as their heads lowered from the clouds.

"So," Javert beamed, touching his forehead to his wife's, "did Renée say when we could start trying?"

Adelaide smiled, "She said two days from now would be the best time."

There was a silence between the two that wasn't awkward in the least, only broken by their silent panting as they both stopped to think.

"Did she say we could start sooner?" Javert finally asked the obvious question.

Adelaide laughed, "She said the sooner the better."

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth did she found herself airborne in his arms, being carried to the bedroom. He placed her on the bed, and quickly turned back to the door, locking it, as they had long ago agreed that the last thing they wanted was for Sébastien to have a nightmare or something, and then come into the room to find his parents fornicating. Adelaide agreed to it on principle, but apparently Javert had once walked in on his mother and one of her clients when he was younger, and he swore to her that that was not an image their son needed in his memory.

Once the door was locked, he was on top of her, lips crushed to hers as one of her hands played with the hair on the back of his neck, while the other worked open the buttons of his shirt. As for his hands, well… let's keep this a T rated story.

Adelaide gasped and he trailed his mouth down her neck, licking, sucking, and kissing down to her collarbone. She was forced to move her second hand from his neck down to help her first hand with the buttons. Pulling apart the final button, Adelaide moved her hands to massage his pectorals. Javert, recognizing the signal to sit up, returned his lips to his wife's as he gently pulled her up into his lap. Adelaide giggled happily into their kiss as Javert skillfully removed the garment from his torso, lips never leaving his wife's. His hands stroked up and down her back, fingering the laces that he would soon be untying, just savouring her touch and taste.

Then something happened.

Adelaide coughed.

Javert frowned and pulled back, "What was that?"

"I don't know," Adelaide looked just as confused as him. "I have no idea where that came from."

"Do you want to stop?" He asked.

"Oh, Dieu no!" and with that her lips were back upon his.

It was the first time she had coughed.

But it wouldn't be the last.

* * *

So I actually decided to cut this in half as it was getting way too long, I hate leaving you guys waiting so long, and I could reasonably end it here. Besides, now we get to see Adelaide's progression of sickness in a more realistic way. I promise that I'll try not to make you guys wait for so long for the next chapter, but I can't be sure. Just know that I try to put these chapters out as quickly as possible, but it takes a while for quality work.

As for Javert's mother I decided I'd rather she be a con artist that exploits stereotypes rather than attempt to portray a real Romani and offend people. Plus it's also a lot more fun to write a con artist who tilts between shams and reality.

And yes, I know that last scene was a little gratuitous for Javert, but this is the only real chance I get to show his physical relationship with his wife, so I figured, why not?

As for any interested parties, this chapter comes to a total of 27 pages.

See you next time.


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